Probie Days
by madame.alexandra
Summary: Leroy Jethro Gibbs found his match in Jenny Shepard-and he knew it from the moment they met. From the day they meet to the Marseilles OP, this is their story. JIBBS Prequel of sorts.
1. Welcome to NCIS

_Thanks to aserene for beta-reading!_

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs was not happy with his job at the moment. He hadn't exactly been happy with it since Mike Franks _retired_ a few months ago, but today it was particularly unsatisfactory.

Not only was he soaked from head to toe, he was filling out an incident report by hand. The computers had had some sort of technical melt down, forcing everyone to do their paperwork by hand until the mechanical guy came to fix them, and he had a lengthy explanation ahead of him.

The incompetent idiot they had working with him for the past few days had somehow managed to accidentally fire his SIG at a dog belonging to one of their witnesses, inducing the somewhat jumpy old woman to attack him, and in the process the body Ducky had been checking over had been contaminated.

Then he'd blown a tire driving back to headquarters, hence the being soaked. He'd had to change it in the rain because the incompetent idiot did not know how to change tires.

Gibbs glared at the fidgety young agent as he walked into the bullpen, toweling his hair, looking very nervous. He stood there, gaping like a fish, and Gibbs physically restrained himself from introducing the other agent to Marine Corp discipline.

"You got something to say, Langer?" he growled, glaring at the other man.

Agent Langer shook his head, his Adam's apple moving as he swallowed edgily. He took a report from under his arm and held it out, saying bravely:

"Incident report, Gibbs—I, er…sir."

"Do not call me 'sir'." Gibbs responded.

Agent Langer continued to hold out the folder until he realized Gibbs was not going to take it.

He set it down carefully at the top of Gibbs' desk and stepped back a little, holding the towel in his hands and looking like he had something else to say. Gibbs ignored him, and went back to his own report. After a few seconds, he realized Langer was going to stand there until he worked up the courage to try and apologize.

"Go home, Langer," Gibbs ordered without looking up, saving him the trouble.

"The case—"

"Home."

Langer hesitated, and then went to the desk he was using temporarily—until Gibbs was assigned his new partner—picked up his things, and left without a word, probably beating himself up.

Gibbs sighed and dropped his pen, rubbing his temples with his thumb and forefinger. He was used to efficiency and results. He hadn't counted on being alternately stuck with idiots and arrogant smart-asses. Morrow insisted on pairing him with different agents fresh out of FLET-C, some greener than others.

He ended collaborating with Chris Pacci and his probie; they could between them at least get a decent job done on a case.

He momentarily wished he'd thrown in his badge and joined Franks, wherever the hell he was.

But Jethro Gibbs wasn't a quitter. And Mike Franks hadn't _retired_, no matter how much he growled and insisted he had.

"Jethro,"

He turned around at the sound of his name and faced the raised eyebrow of Pacci as the other agent leaned over the bullpen, holding out a cup of steaming coffee.

"Your agent shot someone's dog?"

Gibbs scowled as he accepted the coffee with a thankful nod, leaning back in his chair. He took a draught of it and closed his eyes, enjoying the bitter brew as it burned his throat.

Pacci whistled and gave a lopsided smile, jerking his thumb over his shoulder, where his probie was bent over a report, deep in concentration.

"Interrogated his first today," he announced.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Who cried first?" he asked. Pacci snorted.

"Well, suspect was a woman. He tried to be _chivalrous_,"

"How'd that work for him?" Gibbs asked, familiar with the caliber of women their suspects usually where.

"I think his ears are still red from the language that lady used."

They shared knowing looks and Pacci shook his head, looking out the window at the darkening sky.

"You gonna go dry off, Gibbs?" he asked, looking over Gibbs' damp jacket.

"I'd have to go home," he responded, holding out the coffee cup in a sort of toast and turning away from Pacci's knowing look. As he picked up his pen again, his phone buzzed loudly next to him, and continued to do so. Checking the caller ID screen, his mood darkened considerably more.

"Speak of the devil," he muttered, reading her name. He held the phone in his hand a moment, considering his options, then opened his desk drawer and chucked it inside.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with Diane; he'd just say something to make her either cry or throw something at him when (if) he went home.

He ignored the desk drawer when it started to buzz again. He could answer and get an earful, or suffer the constant buzzing. Too bad he'd forgotten how to turn the damn thing on silent.

He continued with the ridiculous report Langer had gotten him into, trying to draw it out so he wouldn't have to make the decision to either go home or mope around headquarters… or maybe harass Ducky.

This time, it wasn't buzzing that interrupted the finalization of the report; it was the sharp ringing of his extension.

"Gibbs," he barked into the phone as he picked it up, a little rougher than he'd originally intended. After he picked up, he cursed mentally, hoping it wasn't Diane having given up the cell and rooted out his work number from somewhere at the house.

"Tough day, Agent Gibbs?"

"Not the best, Director," Gibbs replied, immediately retracting the hostility in his tone. Tom Morrow chuckled good-naturedly on the line, and Gibbs continued signing off on the report, remembering just why he got along with Morrow.

"Yes, I heard about your run in with Mrs. Stark," Morrow sounded a little more amused than the Director of a federal agency should be, since he was talking about a little old woman attacking one of his agents viciously because of an injured Cocker spaniel.

"Won't happen again," Gibbs said darkly.

"Need to see you in my office," Morrow said, slipping back into a business-like tone and pausing slightly, "Got someone you might be interested in meeting."

"Yes sir," Gibbs said, setting the phone back in its cradle. He added the last remaining required data to the report, slipped it in its folder, and stacked it with Langer's, tucking them under his arm and taking his coffee with him as he headed for Morrow's office.

The last person Morrow had said he'd be 'interested in meeting' had spilled his morning coffee, and two days later been transferred to the Norfolk field office. Gibbs approached Morrow's office distastefully; positive he was being assigned another temp for the next few weeks.

"Charlene," he greeted shortly to the Director's secretary. She smiled brightly and pointed at Morrow's half-open office door.

"Go right in, Agent Gibbs," she said.

He heard the rumble of Morrow's voice and feminine laughter as he entered.

"Jethro," Morrow said, coming around his desk as Gibbs entered and clapping him on the shoulder, a small smile on his face.

"Sir," Gibbs greeted, his eyes flicking over the Director's shoulder, half-shielding his view, to the chairs by the opposite wall.

"Someone I want you to meet," Morrow said, stepping back and gesturing to the chairs.

The source of the feminine laughter stood gracefully and stepped forward, meeting his eyes without batting an eyelash. Gibbs glanced at her and back at Morrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Your new partner. _Permanent_ partner, Gibbs," he said sternly, nodding to the woman, "I think she can handle you."

Gibbs lifted one eyebrow slightly and turned back to the woman; this time he didn't give her such a dismissive glance.

She was looking at him with guarded eyes, as if she'd been warned, but there was no fear detectable. She wasn't tense, clearly got along with Morrow if her stance was this relaxed in his office. His eyes fell against his will to her legs; long, smooth, her feet encased in impressive heels. He gave her a once over, sizing her up, and settled his gaze on the crimson hair that hit her just below the shoulders.

She didn't flinch under his scrutiny.

She stepped forward, and he thought he caught her throw a quick, amused glance at Morrow before she extended her hand.

"Jenny Shepard," she said, her voice clear and sharp.

"Gibbs," he said, taking her hand after a moment.

Her grip was firm, and he was surprised. Not many women had confidence in a handshake, but the ones that did were the ones who could hold their own—and he had no doubt this Jenny could.

As he dropped her hand, he flexed his fingers absently, questioning Morrow's choice to attach him to a female partner. Female field agents were few and far between; Franks had absolutely scorned the entire idea, and while Gibbs wasn't quite as archaic as his boss had been, he wasn't sure he wanted to be saddled with training a woman in the field.

"She'll start tomorrow, officially," Morrow said, returning to his desk and sliding his glasses on.

He held out his hand for the files Gibbs had and Gibbs handed them over, turning his back to Jenny Shepard abruptly, still wrapping his head around the woman and the idea.

Morrow straightened up and folded his arms, looking from Gibbs to her.

"I think you to will work well together," he said. Gibbs swore the older man was having _fun_ with this.

"Agent Shepard," he said, picking up a newly printed ID badge from his desk and holding it out gingerly, "your credentials. Welcome to NCIS," he said, as she took them.

"Director," she said, nodding warmly. She picked up a purse from beside the chair she'd been sitting in and turned back to them.

"Gibbs," she said, nodding as well.

"Report to Agent Gibbs tomorrow at oh-seven-hundred. He'll show you the ropes,"

"Goodnight, Sir," she said, slipping her badge into the purse at her shoulder. Gibbs turned slightly to watch her leave the room, taking in the brisk walk, straight shoulders—confidence in every movement.

He turned back to Morrow, who had returned to his seat and was leaning back, looking at him neutrally.

"Sir," Gibbs began, and stopped. He looked down at the files he'd just turned in, and thought back to the phone in his desk drawer, and the wife he was currently avoiding.

Jenny Shepard's firm handshake occurred to him and he sighed, half-heartedly glaring at the Director in the dim lights of the office. He turned and left without a word, determined not to show Morrow that he'd thrown him for a loop with this one.

He swore he heard Morrow laughing as the door clicked shut behind him.

He glanced over the emptying bullpen as he came down the stairs, catching a glimpse of Jenny Shepard at the elevator just as it opened and she stepped on. She turned around and met his eyes, leaning back against the wall of the elevator. The doors closed, and he shook his head.

Somehow, he doubted Morrow would stick him with a woman if she wasn't highly capable of doing this job; he knew better than that. At the same time, women were women, and Gibbs was wary of having to look out for one in the middle of a firefight.

Pacci came around the corner as Gibbs stopped at his desk, jerking open the desk drawer with the, surprisingly, silent phone inside.

"Morrow's gone off the deep end," he commented, as Gibbs slipped his SIG into its holster and flipped off the desk lamp.

Gibbs glared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. Pacci smirked slightly and sighed.

"Who in their right mind would stick _you_ with some leggy red head?" he asked, laughing at the glare he received and calling it a night as he headed for the elevator himself.

Gibbs looked down at his phone as it buzzed again, the same ID running across the small screen.

He opened it, snapped it back shut, put it in his pocket, and steeled himself to deal with the storm he was going to face when he got home for hanging up on her.

Pacci held the elevator for him, and shook his head with a smirk, not saying a word. Gibbs stared straight ahead, half-dreading tomorrow. New agent meant another day lost to explaining procedure, touring headquarters, answering self-explanatory questions.

Then again, if some higher power decided to cut him some slack, Jenny Shepard could turn out to be different than the others.

Well, different in ways _other_ than the fact that she was a leggy, red-headed female.

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_Well, it's a start._

_This, I suppose, is my summer project. _

_Alexa_


	2. Autopsy

_A/N: Thanks to my beta, aserene. This update was fast, but the others might not be quite so._

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**Gibbs managed to slip out of bed without waking Diane, which was quite an accomplishment in his opinion. Actually, the accomplishment was that he'd been allowed to sleep in bed last night, after the tongue lashing he'd received.

He figured next time he'd stick to ignoring her calls instead of deliberately hanging up. His ears would thank him for it.

In an effort to get on her good side—if he still had any chance at all—he started her a pot of the sweet crap she called coffee and left it steaming and waiting, before heading out to pick up his own Jamaican blend at his usual coffee shop on the way to work.

The college student behind the counter recognized him, so he just waited while she filled his order and slid it across the counter to him, wishing him a good morning. He gave her a nod and left. His standards for a 'good morning' did not include creeping around to avoid angry wives only to get to work and start training a probie.

He couldn't deny that it was fun though. As unpleasant as it was to deal with idiots, it was still fun to terrify the probies. He wasn't much for playing pranks on them; that had been Franks' style, Gibbs just preferred to petrify them. It produced fast, efficient results.

And he wasn't going to cut this Shepard a break because she was a woman.

Gibbs took the elevator up to the squad room, checking the time. At oh-six-forty-five, he was usually one of the first to come in. He seemed to be the only agent who desperately _wanted_ to get away from his wife.

When he entered the bullpen, he came to a short stop as his eyes fell on the occupied desk across from his. Jenny Shepard, looking up from whatever she'd been looking at, leaned back and inclined her head to him calmly, sticking the tip of a pencil in her mouth and biting it.

He glared. So much for being able to yell at her for being late. He suddenly realized how much he'd been looking forward to showing what a hard ass he was.

"Good morning," She said.

He didn't answer her. He walked over to his desk and booted up his computer, breathing a sigh of relief when it started to work without a glitch. If everything was up and running again, he and Pacci could close the case they'd nearly wrapped up a few days ago when the system had gone haywire.

After logging in, Gibbs sneaked a peak at Shepard over his computer. She was still looking at him, and he was satisfied to see she looked at least a little put out by his not responding to her greeting.

"You're early," he commented gruffly. Either she was a kiss-ass trying to impress him, or she had nothing to keep her away from the office. He seriously hoped it wasn't the first one.

"So are you," she responded smartly.

She clearly wasn't a kiss-ass.

He looked at her a moment longer before removing his gun from his belt and tossing it in the drawer, pulling up the Grover file and glancing over it. They were missing a few witness statements.

She got up from her chair and walked across the bullpen, coming to stand in front of his desk.

He straightened up slowly, and she folded her arms, nodding her head at a clock on the wall.

"It's seven hundred. I'm reporting to you." She informed him, with just a hint of sarcasm. Gibbs watched her watching him expectantly.

"Something else?" he asked, prompting her.

She shrugged and shook her head, still standing there. He looked over her attire, and was impressed to find she hadn't shown up in some frilly outfit; her slacks were professional but comfortable, her top conservative without being constricting, and her shoes…well, Shepard would learn fast enough you couldn't chase down suspects in five inch heels.

"You're job," he started, "is to observe. You watch, you learn. Got it?" he asked, watching her reaction closely.

She didn't blink.

"What am I observing?" she asked.

"Work," he answered slowly, taken aback. What the hell else would she be watching, the ballet?

"You're not working," she pointed out. "You're trying to intimidate me."

He glared at her.

"It's not working?" he growled, for lack of anything else to say. If she was going to play around, he'd show her intimidating.

Very deliberately, she shook her head, and started to smile a little. She had a teasing smile that reached her eyes instantly.

"Gibbs,"

Gibbs slowly turned away from her to the direction of his name, glad to be interrupted since he hadn't figured out how to respond to her yet. Langer, or anyone else, he'd just head slap and be done. But something held him back from that.

Pacci held out an old fax to him.

"Confession for the Grover case. Riker's getting the transcripts and witness statements for the file, then you can send it on to JAG." he added, referring to his partner.

Gibbs accepted the fax and laid it on his keyboard for later entrance into the system.

"Melanie Kellerman?" he asked, referring to the one witness they'd had the most trouble with, and whose statement they still needed.

"Coming in at eight, I've got it covered,"

"I'm interviewing her," Gibbs said, testing the waters. Pacci smirked.

"No way, man. You lost that coin toss; paper work's all yours."

Gibbs scowled, cursing himself for even letting Pacci talk him into a coin toss when he should have just underhandedly stolen the witness, interviewed her, and given the statement to Pacci before he realized what happened. He glanced at Shepard, and introduced them.

"Jenny Shepard," he said with a gesture.

"Chris Pacci," Pacci said with a smile, extending his hand. She shook it, and smiled in return.

"I look forward to working with you," he said. He looked at Gibbs and leaned forward, whispering loudly, "Keep an eye on 'im," he advised, "Sometimes he forgets this isn't the Corp."

Pacci just smiled under Gibbs' scowl and left for his own desk, where his phone was ringing.

"You were a marine?" Shepard asked interestedly, tilting her head.

"I am a marine," Gibbs answered shortly. He pushed the Grover statement aside and walked around his desk, beckoning to Shepard as he left the bullpen. She followed him to the elevator, and he was surprised she didn't immediately ask where they were going.

If she was going to, she might have been prevented by his phone going off right as she followed him into the elevator. Checking the ID, he bit back a groan and answered sharply.

"Gibbs,"

"Where the hell are my suede boots? I left them in the basement, and now they're gone."

He reached up and rubbed his temples. It was way too early for this. He leaned forward and pressed the button for the evidence garage, turning slightly away from Shepard. She looked straight ahead, obviously trying not to watch him.

"I'm working," he said.

"Don't give me that, you've barely had time to start. You think just slinking out of the house is going to get you—"

"Not now," he interrupted tightly.

"What did you do with my boots?" she repeated. "I have a meeting at eight, I need them."

He had no idea which boots she was talking about, much less where they were. He was also almost positive something bad had happened to them if they _were_ in the basement.

"Workbench," he muttered.

"I looked there,"

"Not my problem."

"Jethro!"

"Not now, Diane!" he hissed.

She hung up, yelling something at him that he didn't quite hear, and wasn't sure he wanted to.

He turned shifted to face the elevator doors, almost positive the trip to the evidence garage had never taken this long before. Shepard was still staring straight ahead, pretending not to have heard a thing. She looked over at him and flashed a smile. The doors opened, and he stepped out, shaking his head with a scowl.

There was a lot of movement in evidence, which wasn't all too uncommon. There were employees here at all hours, making sure nothing was tampered with and no one was touching things that shouldn't be touched.

"Evidence garage," Gibbs announced, gesturing around them. "Keep your gear stocked with evidence bags," he picked one up from a table where the stuff from an agent's case was laid out, pointing to the label. "Label clearly. Evidence comes here when we're finished; its accessible if its needed again."

"How strict are labeling rules?" Shepard asked, taking the bag from him and looking at it. He gave her bent head a look that she didn't see, informing her hair he thought she was asking a dumb question. She looked up when he didn't answer and pointed to the bag.

"This is labeled 'victim's shoe'. It's a slipper." She informed him, holding it up.

For a split second, he took her seriously and almost fired her right there. When he realized she was smiling slightly at him, tilting her head, he rolled his eyes and pretended not to be amused that she had the gall to joke around with him.

"Chain of evidence is important," he said gruffly, turning a bag over and showing her the lines on the back, this particular bag signed so many times it had clearly been the integral part of the case. "The techs will hunt you down with a sharpie and ropes if you don't sign,"

"You suggesting they'll tie me up?" she asked, glancing at a young man who picked up a few items from the table and smiled at her comment.

"Morning, Agent Gibbs," he said. Gibbs nodded to him.

"Haven't seen you before. You must be new," he said, turning to Shepard.

"Brilliant deduction," she said, smiling sweetly.

Gibbs smiled and shook his head slightly at the smart ass response, watching the tech fumble for his next line as he realized her comment hadn't been a come-on directed at him. Gibbs turned on his heel and walked back towards the elevator, bending down to eye-level for the retina scan. He stepped in the elevator, and amused himself listening to the clicking of heels against concrete as Shepard hurried to keep up. She slipped in the doors just as they closed and, after remaining silent a few moments, spoke without looking at him.

"Could've used a warning," she said mildly.

"Learn to anticipate," he responded.

She looked towards him and opened her mouth; probably about to ask him what anticipating when he was going to walk away had to do with the job. Instead she closed her mouth, blew hair off of her forehead, and stared straight ahead.

This time, they got off at forensics and ballistics. To his displeasure, he was met with a locked door to the forensics lab, meaning Harper was late, again. Gibbs and the self-serving, rather arrogant scientist didn't quite see eye-to-eye on…anything.

"Forensics lab, which I would show you if the idiot running it came to work when he was supposed to," Gibbs growled, pointing to the door. "Ballistics is in the lab, to the left. Results can take anywhere from an hour to a week, depending on what. Harper is lazy, so you stay on his ass to get evidence results or we get nothing done."

Shepard nodded.

"What did I just say to you?" he asked suddenly.

She looked at him quizzically, and slowly started to answer:

"Forensics lab…which you would show me if the…idiot running it…why am I repeating this?" she snapped.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her for passing the test. She'd proved herself a good listener, a damn good one if she'd actually just started to repeat his words verbatim. He ignored her question and led her down the hall, choosing the stairs for the floor one below them.

"Cyber crimes unit," he said, stopping outside the metal door. "We're not going in," he said, as she reached for the door.

The last time he'd entered cyber crimes to get a briefing on something, he'd come out knowing less than he had going in. She stopped moving towards the door and looked at him, waiting. He started to turn back towards the stairs for forensics and ballistics when he was blocked by a woman coming down the stairs.

"Agent Gibbs!" she said brightly over the files she was carrying. He allowed a small smile for her in return; less annoyed by her than some of the others he worked with. She stepped off the stairs and moved past him, starting down the hall whistling, when he thought of something and stopped her.

"Fiona," he called. She stopped whistling and turned, raising her eyebrows. "Duck got a body this morning?" he asked. She nodded.

"Yep, he's doing the autopsy on Balboa's petty officer today." She answered.

"Think he's up for an audience?"

Fiona beamed, her long blonde ponytail bobbing as she nodded enthusiastically.

"Always!" she said, shifting the files and beckoning.

"Shepard," Gibbs said, beckoning to her. She hesitated and followed him down the hall; coming to a stop with Fiona pressed the down button for the elevator, and stepped back. Fiona leaned around Gibbs and smiled at Shepard.

"I'm Fiona Baker," she said, "The ME's assistant."

"Jenny Shepard,"

"Hi, Jenny!"

Shepard smiled at her, though Gibbs noticed she looked kind of strained. They stepped in the elevator and Fiona pressed their floor, balancing her files. Without a word, Gibbs took them from her, glancing at the one on top for Balboa's recent case.

"Got a cause yet?"

"Strangulation, obviously," Fiona answered immediately, "but Dr. Mallard thinks there might have been poison involved because the guy's tongue is black."

Shepard leaned forward and looked at Fiona, cringing. She straightened up and looked at Gibbs, for once looking put out.

"Where are we going?" she asked finally.

"Autopsy," he answered.

"I got that," she answered sharply, "Why?" she asked.

He looked over at her, a little pleased he'd finally managed to get a rise out of her.

"New agents have to observe an autopsy," he informed her.

She looked at him without a word, and then leaned back, staring straight ahead. He sensed his answer had been exactly the one she didn't want to hear. He turned to Fiona and she raised her eyebrows slightly, half smiling.

Fiona was off the elevator first, disappearing into the hall.

"…_and I said what about…Breakfast at Tiffany's_…"

Shepard gave Fiona's back a strange look and turned her head to Gibbs as they stepped off after her.

"She sings. A lot." Gibbs said. He rolled his eyes, listening to the familiar _swish_ of the autopsy doors opening. 'A lot' might have been the understatement of the century. Fiona sang all the time.

Ducky looked up brightly as he heard his doors open and beamed, as both Gibbs and Fiona greeted him.

"Good morning, my dear—set the files over there, you know where they go—and bring me that scalpel, I seem to have misplaced mine…ah, Jethro. Getting a bright and early start, I see!"

Gibbs smiled at his old friend and came to a stop next to the table Ducky was working at, where the petty officer he was working on lay, his chest cavity open, insides visible to the world. He tilted his head back at Shepard, who stopped a few inches behind him, away from the table.

"Jenny Shepard,"

"Your new partner, I presume?" Ducky held out his hand, then noticed it was covered in a latex glove and spattered with blood and removed it quickly. Shepard seemed to physically force herself to shake his hand and nod politely.

"Quite nice to meet you, my dear—thank you," he added to Fiona, who handed him the requested scalpel. She nodded and tied on her green paper apron, standing at the head of the body.

"Hi, Mr. Coronetti," she said, speaking to the body. "How's he doing today?" she asked.

"Our friend is, unfortunately, still quite dead," Ducky said, with a warm smile at his assistant. He looked up at Gibbs and his new partner and smiled at the woman.

"You're here to observe, I see," he noted, holding out his hand. Fiona immediately handed him his scissors and he placed his hands back in the body, holding something out of the way with the scalpel and beckoning for Fiona to take it. She did, and he used the scissors to cut something out of the way.

Fiona hummed 'Thriller' quietly under her breath.

"Ah, I haven't introduced myself now, have I?" Ducky asked absently, looking up at Shepard momentarily as he backed up and lifted something out of the way. Gibbs watched with interest, planning on telling Balboa anything Ducky found to save him the trip. "Dr. Donald Mallard, at your service—please, call me Ducky, it is fitting," he looked up as he lifted out what Gibbs, from experience, recognized as the liver, and as his eyes fell on Shepard he said lightly:

"Jethro, get that girl a bucket."

Gibbs turned sharply to see Shepard, a ghastly shade of green, turn her face away and cover her mouth with her hand. He dove for one of the metal bowls on a card next to the next table and pulled it towards her, pushing her head down towards it.

Shepard removed her hand and promptly threw up.

Gibbs slid his hand off of her hair slowly and rested it on her shoulder…and then did the worst thing he could of possibly done to her at that moment.

He laughed.

It wasn't a rude laugh, he was just amused. Amused that he'd been trying to rattle her by being mean when all he'd had to do was yell autopsy and she'd have turned green.

"Oh, goodness. Let me make you some tea," Ducky said with concern, removing his hands from the cadaver and throwing his gloves away. He pulled his ever-present teapot out of nowhere and happily began brewing his beloved Earl Grey.

Shepard took a deep breath and shook Gibbs' hand off her sharply, turning her head to glare balefully at him. She straightened up and put her wrist to her mouth, closing her eyes briefly.

"Breathe through your mouth," Gibbs ordered. She looked mutinous, but followed his order.

Gibbs took her arm above the elbow and steered her away from Ducky's table to the farthest one away, where she leant back against it with her back to the body. Ducky appeared a moment later with a cup of tea, holding it out to her sympathetically.

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard," she said hoarsely.

"Ducky," he said, smiling, "it can be overwhelming at first, can't it?" he sighed. "Fiona, open Mr. Coronetti's liver and see what he's hiding," he ordered absently.

"Aye aye, Mr. Ducky!" she said, saluting him and getting to work.

"…_here comes the sun, little darlin', here comes the sun_…"

"Quietly, please, Miss Baker."

The singing only went down a little. Ducky shook his head with a smile, and turned a kind eye on Gibbs's partner.

"Has the earl settled your stomach?" he asked, as Shepard swallowed a mouthful of the steaming tea.

"How can she sing while she does that?" Shepard asked, glancing over her shoulder at Fiona.

"That young lady sings while she does everything," Ducky replied. "There," he said, when she finished the tea, "Ready to finish Mr. Coronetti?"

Gibbs felt it in his best interest to bite back the laugh that threatened when she turned white as a ghost at the coroner's words.

"Finish?" she asked, tilting her ear towards him.

"Why, of course, it's procedure—"

Shepard looked up at Gibbs with something close to pleading in her eyes, her shoulders tensing noticeable. He tried to tell himself it wasn't because she was a woman that he said what he did next.

"Go back to the bullpen," he said gruffly, "and wait."

She gave a relieve nod to Ducky, set the teacup down on the table she was leaning against, and all but ran out of autopsy, heels clicking all the way.

"Well," Ducky said, raising his eyebrows at his friend, "that was most certainly chivalrous." He commented with a small smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Duck," Gibbs replied. He turned to head out after Shepard when Ducky called him back.

"Be _nice_ to that girl, Jethro," he said sternly. Gibbs smirked, and Ducky lifted one shoulder with a mysterious smile.

"You never know," he said, "she may surprise you."

Gibbs shook his head and left, the doors closing Ducky and Fiona in the room behind him. He took the elevator alone this time, leaning against the rail. He hadn't expected her to lose it in autopsy; he couldn't place why he'd let her off the hook either. He furiously denied it was because she was a woman, and convinced himself it was to alleviate the humiliation.

But who was he kidding?

He scowled to himself and stepped off the elevator into the squad room, where he found her back at her desk as she'd been this morning, this time with her finger at her lips, staring at her crossed legs absent-mindedly.

"Balboa," he shouted across the room. Balboa's head shot up over the walls and he looked at Gibbs. "Ducky's got your body open now,"

"Thanks for the heads up," Balboa shouted back, standing up and going for the elevator.

Gibbs left Shepard alone for the moment and bent over the computer, searching through the database and pulling up her training file easily. He searched for the autopsy section, looking at the boxes labeled 'pass' or 'fail'. He looked back up at her and hesitated slightly.

"BOSS!"

His decision making was interrupted.

Stan Burly entered the bullpen with a huge grin, backpack and gear slung over his shoulder.

"Didya miss me?" he asked, dropping his stuff down loudly and throwing himself down at the desk next to Gibbs'. Gibbs shook his head slowly, and Burly's face fell.

The younger, excitable agent had worked numerous times with he and Franks before Mike had quite, and since Mike's departure, with Gibbs as close to regularly as possible. Burly hadn't been a probie for just over six months, and was fully enjoying agent status. He hadn't yet been assigned to a team, and had been working Special Projects in Los Angeles for the past week.

"Aw, c'mon Boss,"

"I'm not your boss," Gibbs growled, looking back at his computer.

"You're—who's she?"

Burly had apparently noticed Shepard. She looked up from her reverie as he scrambled up from his seat and stalked towards her desk, turning to Gibbs for an explanation.

"I'm his partner," Shepard said without moving.

"You replaced me already?"

"You were not my partner, Steve."

"It's Stan…"

Gibbs ignored him, and minimized Shepard's training file for the moment.

"When did you get here?" he heard Burly ask her. She didn't answer right away.

"This morning," she said finally.

Gibbs was prevented eavesdropping any farther by his phone. _Again_. He took one look at the screen and muttered at it angrily, leaving the bullpen for a more secluded place.

"_What_, Diane?"

"Will you be home at a decent hour tonight?" she asked snappishly.

"Why?" he asked.

"Jethro, why can't you just answer my questions? Do you need to know why? Why would you ask '_why'_, anyway, I shouldn't have to give you a reason to come home—"

"Did you call for a reason?" Gibbs growled, getting more and more annoyed by the second.

"_Yes_," she answered. He waited. "What _time_ are you coming home?" she demanded.

"Diane…" he said warningly. He stopped and sighed, checking his watch. "Six." He answered, surrendering.

"Oh," she sounded happier already."Then I'll make dinner—do you think you could pick up some groceries, hang on, I'll give you a list—"

Gibbs turned his head sharply at the sound of a yell from the bullpen that sounded suspiciously like Burly.

"Call you back," he said, and heard her muttered 'okay' as he snapped the phone shut and hurried back. He entered the bullpen quickly and raised his eyebrow. Burly had definitely yelled, and he had grounds for it. Shepard, for some reason, had his arm twisted behind his back and his face pressed up against a file cabinet.

"Agent Shepard," Gibbs said calmly, "release Burly."

She let him go and stepped away without a word, sitting on the edge of the desk she'd claimed as hers and folding her arms. As Burly turned towards him, massaging his wrist and opening his mouth to protest, Gibbs thwacked him on the back of the skull.

"What the hell was _that_ for?!" whined Burly.

"Whatever you said to make her do that," Gibbs answered with a glare.

Burly grumbled under his breath and stalked back over to his desk, sitting down moodily. He glared at Shepard and she smirked at him. Gibbs gave her a look. He was clearly going to have to keep a better eye on her.

"Burly," he said. Burly was up again in an instant, taking the fax Gibbs held out to him. "The Grover case. Put that in the file, update the date. Pacci's interviewing Kellerman in," he glanced at his watch, "twenty minutes; I'll get you the statement. Get it to JAG."

"Yes b—Gibbs."

"Shepard," he barked. She looked at him patronizingly. "You think you can handle watching an interview?" he asked, smirking slightly at her.

"As long as the subject's chest isn't wide open." She answered bluntly, narrowing her eyes at his tease.

Eh, at least she hadn't cried about it.

He swept his coffee off the desk and beckoned her towards the interview room.

* * *

It was nearing six o'clock, and Gibbs entered the bullpen with Pacci, checking on Shepard with a glance. He'd left her looking over old case reports to get a feel for how it was done while he closed up the Grover case and reported to Morrow. He jiggled the mouse and woke his computer, pulling Shepard's file back up, while Pacci looked over his shoulder at her.

"She really lose her cookies in autopsy?" he asked quietly. Gibbs looked up sharply, familiar with the sonic hearing women seemed to possess.

"Yeah, I did," came Shepard's voice. Pacci made a face and turned slightly. She looked up from the report she'd been reading when she felt his eyes on her. "It's not because I'm a girl, either." She added in a mutter, glaring at him.

Pacci smiled at her and turned back to Gibbs.

"Spirited," he commented with a laugh. "Didn't think that interview with Kellerman was every going to end," he said, groaning at the memory.

Gibbs shook his head in distaste, gathering his things together. He'd call Diane on the way home to see what she'd decided she just had to have from the store.

"She was lying, couldn't get her story straight," he said, shrugging. "It's a miracle we got a statement."

Shepard snorted, and they both looked at her. She looked up again.

"She was _nervous_," she told them looking from Gibbs to Pacci, "your blustering and growling made her feel like she'd done something wrong, when she was only a bystander."

Pacci gave Gibbs a raised-eyebrow glance.

"She knows everything after one day? You're not that good." He said disbelievingly.

Gibbs was still glaring at her for daring to challenge him. She looked back down and closed the case files, stacking them neatly, speaking again.

"I minored in psychology," she said neutrally, with a shrug. "Besides, she didn't look down and to the left; she looked right. Surely you know the difference, Gibbs?" she asked him sweetly.

Pacci burst out laughing, shaking his head in amusement.

"Shepard, I like you," he announced jovially. Gibbs rolled his eyes, ignoring Pacci as he left the bullpen still enjoying himself.

He noticed Shepard was still looking at him with a smirk when he flipped off his desk lamp and came around the edge.

"You're free," he informed her.

"You make it sound like we've been _slaving_ over our jobs," she responded sarcastically, standing up and slinging her purse over her shoulder and coming to stand in front of him after she switched off her own lamp.

She looked at him, and then smiled, her eyes brightening again. He reluctantly allowed himself to finally notice how attractive she was. He'd been avoiding doing that very thing, determined not to appreciate her looks just because she was a redhead.

He was screwed.

"Goodnight, Shepard," he said, suppressing a smirk and starting to move away.

"Hey," she called. He turned back to her. "Do you have a first name, Gibbs?" she asked, raising her eyebrow. He looked at her a moment and she went on. "You know mine. It's only fair."

"Jethro," he told her.

Her eyebrows went up.

"Jethro," she repeated. "Tough luck," she teased, sweeping the files off her desk and brushing past him. She took the door to the stairway, while he stopped at the elevator.

At least she displayed a personality, instead of scrambling around trying to please him. Of course, it was only the first day, but his gut told him there was something about her…

As he dialed home and stepped into the parking garage, waiting for Diane's answer, he thought back to his notes and evaluation of her first day in the raining file. Maybe it was that _something_ that had prompted him to report that she'd passed her autopsy test.

* * *

_Stay Tuned,_

_Alexa_


	3. Prove Yourself

_Thanks to aserene! This is much harder to write than aniticpated..._

**

* * *

**

Jenny Shepard had just dropped her purse on her desk and glanced around for her boss when he came storming around the corner and thrust a fully stocked backpack at her. She caught it and tried to hide a gasp as it knocked the breath out of her.

"I guess that answers my question about your weekend," she muttered, glaring at his silver hair as he snatched his coffee cup off of his desk.

"Body at Quantico," he said shortly, walking off towards the elevator without a backward glance. She slung the backpack over her shoulder gracefully, snatched her firearm off the desk, and hurried after him, holstering the gun at her hip as she slipped in the elevator in the nick of time.

She turned toward him deliberately and glared, taking a moment to make it clear she was displeased before turning away and stating to the closed elevator doors:

"You have a cowlick."

"What?" he snapped, and she was pleased to note he sounded surprised.

"Your hair," she said slowly, as the elevator doors opened at the garage, "is sticking up in the back. Not that there's much to stick up," she added, stepping off.

He didn't follow her for a moment, and she smiled to herself. She'd already figured out, pretty much from day one, that he'd made it his sole purpose to trip her up, catch her doing something wrong, and/or scare the hell out of her. She in turn was determined to let him do none of these, because she wasn't one to be intimidated.

She checked the license plate of the cars and stopped at the one he'd told her was his, turning just in time to see him touching the back of his head suspiciously.

"Rough night?" she asked loudly, opening the passenger side. She smiled at him and got in the car, tossing the backpack down by her feet as she shut the door. He narrowed his eyes at her as he started the ignition, dropping his coffee in a cup holder rather violently. When he didn't answer, she went on:

"I meant you either slept in a really awkward position," she hesitated and rolled her head on the headrest, looking at him intensely, "or someone had their fingers in your hair and was gripping really, really _hard_,"

He turned towards her slightly and she smiled with her tongue between her teeth. The death glare she received was worth it, considering she could tell she'd successfully made him uncomfortable.

"Watch it, Shepard," he warned.

She widened her eyes and shrugged, sitting up.

"Well if I'd have known you were such a _prude_, Gibbs," she trailed off, reaching up behind his head to touch the messed up patch in his silver hair "Want me to fix it?"

He swatted her hand away and shifted his foot to the gas, pressing it hard. She let out an involuntary shriek as the car shot forward and she with it, her palms smacking against the dashboard where she thrust them out to break her fall. He smirked, his eyes on the road.

"You should wear your seatbelt," he said mildly.

She clicked it with a scowl, and shut her mouth for the rest of the ride to Quantico.

* * *

Jenny Shepard tilted her head at the young woman sitting inside the interrogation room. She was tiny, blonde, and crying—apparently a terrible combination for Gibbs, as he'd taken one look at her and stormed back out of the observation room.

She was the wife of the Petty Officer who'd been murdered. Ella Klein had come home from work to find her husband tied naked to their bed with silk Louis Vuitton scarves—that did not belong to her. There had been a clean bullet hole in the center of his forehead.

Jenny might have felt sorry for her if she didn't think Ella Klein was an idiot. Thinking the mourning wife of a dead petty officer was an idiot probably violated sensitivity training rules, but she didn't care. The woman refused to believe her husband had been cheating on her, even though the scarves tying him up were not hers, the fluids on the bed were clearly not hers, and the scrap of sparkly gold fabric they'd found in the room wasn't either.

"Harper should have had those results hours ago," growled Gibbs, making Jenny jump a mile.

"Don't _do_ that," she snapped, whirling to face him. He shrugged at her, clearly amused that he'd frightened her. She considered knocking his coffee out of his hand. Instead, she turned back to look at Ella Klein.

"Are we going to question her, or let her sit there and cry?" she asked.

"You're not going to question anybody," Gibbs responded coldly. He glanced at one of the techs operating the interrogation rooms recording materials, and then looked at Ella silently for a moment.

"Let me guess," Jenny started sarcastically, "you want me to 'observe'."

"That would be the definition of 'probationary field agent'." Gibbs responded.

"I learn by _doing_. Not by watching." Jenny answered. She turned to him, making sure she caught his eye directly. "I _am_ useful, Agent Gibbs."

She knew he'd been doing anything in his power since she'd been paired with him to break her, prove she couldn't do her job.

She didn't know _why_ either, and she didn't get the impression it was because of her gender. He was brazen, harsh—and yet he seemed pleased with her most of the time. Still, this constant order to '_observe'_ was starting to piss her off. She hadn't joined NCIS to watch self-important old marines storm around mainlining coffee.

"Yeah?" he said, turning on her. He studied her, as if waiting for her to back away. "You've yet to do anything _spectacular_ to prove yourself, Agent Shepard,"

She bit her tongue, and turned away, crossing her arms.

What was she supposed to do, bring him the moon on a string? She'd been with him just over two weeks. This was her first real case; there hadn't been any other opportunities for hands-on experience. Unless you counted the three autopsies he made her sit through and the three hour target practice he'd watched her do.

"She refuses to admit Petty Officer Klein was cheating," Gibbs started in a low voice, "I want Harper's results to prove it. That's what we need to break her—if he'd get those damn results to me, I swear,"

He trailed off into a mutter and Jenny narrowed her eyes at Ella Klein before she turned on her heel and left the observation room, slamming the door behind her.

At the lift, she jammed her finger on the button and waited impatiently for the elevator, shoving into in between two older agents as she hurried on. She barely even acknowledged one of them greeting her.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked down the hall to Harper's lab, entering his sanctuary without so much as a warning. She smirked at his turned back.

"Harper," she snapped, and he flinched, turning in surprise…

…five minutes later she flung open the door to Ella Klein's interrogation room and flung an open folder onto the metal table in front of the woman, tapping a finger violently on the picture and DNA results inside.

"I'm going to go ahead and assume you don't have an alternate identity as exotic dancer Randy Rachel of 'Bunny Bungalow Night Club'," she said.

Ella Klein gasped and turned away from the photo of the girl inside the envelope. She shook her head violently.

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Klein, your husband knew her very well," Jenny closed the folder and stepped back, "Agent Gibbs will be in to talk to you again in a moment," she paused as she walked towards the door and looked over her shoulder, "you should tell him the truth this time."

Before she left the room, she looked straight into the glass to the observation room and held her gaze. She banged the door shut and stepped out into the hall, it suddenly hitting her that she'd just been unbelievably cruel to that woman.

"What the hell was that?" Gibbs half-yelled at her, storming out of the observation room.

"Something _spectacular_!" she snapped back sarcastically, placing a hand on her hip. "Harper's results connected the fluids and fingerprints to a dancer with a past record of a few thefts and one arson charge. He was cheating, she's convinced; she's pissed. Go get what you want."

Jenny turned to leave and he grabbed her shoulder, spinning her back.

He wasn't exactly sure which part of their conversation had crept under her skin so well, but he'd try to remember what it was the next time he needed results fast.

"How'd you get Harper to hurry it up?" he demanded, put out that she'd done what his growling apparently had not.

She studied him with cool eyes and leant up a little, only needing the slightest elevation in her heels.

"I showed him my breasts," she hissed, leaving him there to stare.

As he watched her leave, her jaw set in an irritated line; Jethro Gibbs restrained himself from dropping his jaw. He swallowed hard, stunned not because she'd said it, but because he thought she might actually have _done_ it.

* * *

Jenny stood in front of the board in the bullpen, looking over the photos and notes pinned up on it, while Gibbs paced behind her.

"Rachel Randolph claims not to have known Petty Officer Klein was married, and says he was going to marry _her,_" Jenny mused, thinking out loud, "and Ella Klein says they had the perfect marriage. So Klein ends up tied naked to a bed with the stripper's scarves, a bullet in his brain. Her fluids are all over the sheets, and her prints are on the bedpost."

"It's a good thing you're here to tell us what we already know, Shepard," Gibbs barked from behind her. She ignored him except to roll her eyes and hope he didn't see it.

"So Rachel ties him up, has sex with him, and shoots him in the head…straightforward." Jenny said, running a finger over the bag containing one of the Louis Vuitton scarves.

"Alibi checks out; she was at work," Gibbs grunted.

"Why was she working at a _night_ club at ten a.m.?" Jenny fired back, shaking her head and turning around. "Someone's covering for her,"

"And Ella Klein? She was at her school, but students are out for today," Gibbs muttered.

"Teachers are at school a lot when kids aren't; exotic dancers don't dance for empty chairs,"

"She could have been practicing,"

Jenny snorted.

"They don't dance unless what their dancing for is waving singles," she said, lifting an eyebrow.

"You speaking from personal experience?"

"God, _no_, Gibbs—I don't perform for a penny under five bucks," she answered with an eye roll, and throwing off his attempt to anger her or throw her into some kind of feminist rage.

"So, who's our suspect?"

"Rachel,"

They stared at each other, Jenny chewing her lip, Gibbs watching her. He looked over her shoulder at the things tacked on the board. Crime scene photos, DNA results, forensics, the scarves.

"He was tied up post mortem; we found no gun in the room, no gun in Rachel Randolph's apartment, her car, or her dressing room at the club." Jenny said. "Forensics say it was a nine millimeter Berretta," she stopped, "Where the hell's the gun?"

"Burly cross-checked sales record on Berettas in the area; nothing's been sold lately," Gibbs answered slowly.

'So what do we do, scour D.C. until we find the damn thing?" Jenny muttered. Gibbs started pacing again and stopped, looking intently at the board.

"Did Petty Officer Klein have a gun registered to him, non military issue?" he asked. Jenny paused and racked her brains. She turned and walked passed Gibbs to his computer, shaking the mouse and biting her lip again as she typed quickly and bypassed a few roadblocks to pull up Burly's results. She read over them quickly, and then pulled up a search and turned the date back a few years.

She felt Gibbs come up behind her and lean over next to her, watching closely. He took a slow drink of coffee as the computer worked, and a red flash appeared on the screen.

"Nine mil. Beretta sold to Jeffrey Klein six years ago…that's three weeks after he married Ella," she said, standing up and crossing her arms.

Gibbs was still looking at the results.

"You pulled those from Burly's computer," he said looking at her. She nodded, and started to speak. "You can do that?"

She nodded.

"These computers are all connected in a way, makes it easy to transfer information. And, I'm a pretty decent hacker as long as the algorithms are simple."

Gibbs stared at her and then shook his head.

"I hate technology," he grumbled, walking back to the middle of the bullpen.

"Go, talk to Mrs. Klein about her husband's gun. I'll re-confirm the alibis, and have Burly talk to Rachel again."

Jenny didn't respond right away to his order; she watched him start to his desk. He had picked up his phone and started dialing when he noticed her still standing there, and ended the call.

"By myself?" she asked, after he glared at her a moment or two.

"You're so eager to prove yourself," he responded, with just a hint of sarcasm, "do it."

She smiled at him, nodding her appreciation.

Jenny left the bullpen, taking only her purse with her to the elevator. For the first time she actually felt like she'd accomplished something other than throwing Gibbs off beat. That, in her opinion, was easy—but getting him to trust her with a responsibility was hard.

She took a deep breath as she got into the car to head for Ella Klein's home at Quantico, and sat a moment before she started the car. The way she figured it, she could only ride on the success with getting fast results out of Harper for two or three more hours before some other spectacular thing had to be done to impress Gibbs.

She was confident in her abilities to do this job, and she wasn't afraid of him no matter what he did, but she found herself respecting his worth ethic—no matter how abrasive he was going about it. Even though it kind of annoyed her, Jenny wanted his approval.

* * *

"Ella claims she hates guns, but Petty Officer Klein purchased the Beretta for her to protect herself while he was overseas. Says she kept it in a drawer by the bed, but never touched it,"

Gibbs rubbed his temples as Jenny spoke, leaning back in her chair. He stared at the phone he'd just hung up, considering.

"She say if anyone else knew about that gun?" he asked quietly. Jenny shook her head.

"She didn't say no one knew, but she did say 'Rachel must've taken it after the bitch shot Jeff'." Jenny repeated verbatim. Gibbs gave her a look and she shrugged. He leaned forward.

"Rachel's friend still claims she was at work; story hasn't changed. I got in touch with the principle of the school Ella works at, and she told a different story than the co-worker. Says Ella didn't come in,"

"So who's lying?" Jenny asked.

"If Ella Klein wasn't at school, where was she?" Gibbs muttered, looking at the board they'd been using through the whole case. "What's her alibi?"

"You don't think she did it?" Jenny asked incredulously, sitting up a little. He shifted his gaze to her. "Rachel's all over that room. There could be a dozen explanations Ella lied about her whereabouts—_she_ could be cheating."

Gibbs seemed to be lost in thought.

"Hey, Boss," Burly bent over the bullpen behind Jenny and grinned at them both. Gibbs barely looked up, and Stan reached down and flicked Jenny behind the ear. She swatted his hand away with a glare and he leaned back, whistling.

"You teach her that glare, Boss?" he asked, scooting away from her a little, "That's scary how you picked that up…"

Gibbs looked up at this and straight at Jenny. He leaned forward again.

"'Rachel must've taken it after the bitch shot Jeff'," he repeated.

Jenny furrowed her eyebrow.

"That's what El—"

"Why would you call your husband's lover, a _stripper_ you've never met before, by her first name?" Gibbs asked, still staring at her intently.

Jenny started to shake her head and then stopped, her eyes widening slightly.

"Because you _know_ her," she said slowly, straightening up. Gibbs nodded, and stood up as well, picking up his phone. Jenny waited while he did.

"Detain Ella Klein at her home; don't let her leave," he barked, dropping the phone into the receiver just as quickly.

"Burly, go with Shepard and pick up Randy Rachel at the Bunny Bungalow," Gibbs ordered distastefully, rolling his eyes, "I'll get Mrs. Klein,"

Stan leapt forward and scrambled after Jenny and Gibbs towards the elevator.

"You think they did it together, Gibbs?" she asked.

"Girlfriend finds out her perfect man is married, tells the wife, they plan his murder and hope they don't get caught; maybe even know if they do the evidence is sketchy and circumstantial," Gibbs muttered.

"How do we get them?" she asked.

"They confess," Stan piped up wiggling his eyebrows. Jenny snorted.

"Right, they just throw in the towel: 'Ah, ya caught me, go ahead and cuff me!' Come on," she said disbelievingly.

Stan stopped her as the elevators opened and let Gibbs go before them.

"You've never seen him _interrogate_ somebody, have you?" he asked wickedly, stressing the word.

Jenny shook her head and looked after Gibbs's retreating back. Burly smirked.

* * *

Jenny stood in front of the cork board, pulling down evidence and laying it carefully in a box, her nearly finished report lying on her desk for signature and filing.

Rachel Randolph hadn't changed a word of her story, but Ella Klein had broken quickly. All Gibbs had really done was stare at her, and then after a few moments, laid the Beretta they'd found in her car on the table and stared some more. In a torrent of frightened words, she'd gone on about 'crimes of passion' and how Rachel and she had been in it together, but in the end, with Rachel not saying a word, it was hearsay and looked like Ella would be convicted of the murder on her own.

Jenny flipped the bag with the silk scarves in it over in her hand, examining the hurried signature she'd scrawled on the back. She smiled a little to herself.

"Shepard,"

He didn't scare her this time, maybe because he didn't yell in her ear or something. She placed the evidence bag in the box and turned around, resting her arm on it. His eyes followed her arm to the box and to the report on her desk. He held his hand out, and she took it and gave it to him.

He nodded to her and went to his desk, sitting down without another word. He seemed to be working on his own report. She looked out the window at the pitch black sky and at the clock, before picking up her purse and the box, planning to drop it in the evidence garage on her way home.

"Case is over, you know," she said, stopping in front of his desk. He looked up and lifted a brow.

Jenny shrugged. If he didn't want to go home, she wasn't going to make him. She wasn't all to found of going home herself, but this office wasn't any warmer to her. If it was better for him here than at home, suit him.

She started to leave.

"You did good, Jenny." He said suddenly, not looking up from his report. She stopped, and then kept moving, smiling to herself just a little triumphantly as she pushed the button for the lift.

It was a start.

* * *

_:]_

_Alexa_


	4. Work

_Thanks to aserene! A chapter to get into their personal lives a bit..._

**

* * *

**

The steady motion of sanding his boat was the only thing that was really calming these days. There was the bourbon, except Diane kept getting a hold of it and hiding it for some reason.

Jethro wiped the sleeve of his sweatshirt across his forehead, pausing a moment to take a drink of the coffee that was now cold. He put off coming home as late as possible, and still didn't go up to bed when he did. He preferred the darkness of the basement, the familiarity of the wood, and the silence.

The silence was his favorite part.

The past few days had been late nights. The Klein case had been as close to open-shut as possible, and he was willing to bet Shepard hadn't been prepared for the whirlwind that hit them next. A high-profile naval officer's body dumped in Anacostia Park created a media hailstorm on top of no leads and a demanding SecNav riding the Director who in turn rode them.

He'd been stretched thin dealing with the media and local LEOs, and on top of that Burly had been sent back to L.A. for a while, leaving him with only Shepard—who was still a beginner no matter what she thought. The icing on the cake had been Diane's decision to start talking about babies again.

He sat back on a stool by his workbench, draining the last of the cold coffee and staring at the boat without seeing it. The case had been closed, finally, today, and Shepard had gone home without a word to him, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and her body language screaming how frustrated and angry she was at him.

Still, she hadn't cried, and she hadn't given up. Every shouted word, every insult, anything had just resulted in her turning a set jaw to him and working harder. She'd fallen asleep at her desk, messed up a few times, and snapped and yelled at him across the bullpen once—and she hadn't given up.

For once, Jethro Gibbs was impressed with someone. He respected her now, even if he was still testing her. She obviously felt like she didn't need to be trained, leaving FLET-C with outstanding reports, a head above everyone else, had gone to her head whether she admitted it or not.

Surprisingly, he liked it.

"Jethro,"

He closed his eyes briefly and opened them, looking up slightly towards the sound of her tired, breathy voice. Diane stepped off the last step; sleep in her eyes, wrapped in a bathrobe that hung open to reveal her pajamas. She folded her arms and walked towards him, yawning slightly.

"It's two a.m.," she mumbled, taking the mug from his hands and setting it down. "Come to bed, Jethro," she said, putting her arms around him a little hesitantly and resting her head against his shoulder.

He put his hand over hers and squeezed, remaining silent. He didn't know what to say to her, didn't _have_ anything to say. She sighed and moved her head slightly.

"Look, Jethro," she started, "if this is about yesterday—"

"Don't, Diane," he stopped, rubbing her hand. He didn't want to hear her apologize or accuse or guilt him somehow. The guilt stopped working months ago, and the accusations only started fights.

"You don't ever want to talk, do you?" she asked bitterly, leaning back a little and searching his face.

He sighed and finally looked at her, running on caffeine, other things on his mind than her and their marriage. He was certain that at some point what he had with Diane had been fun; he just didn't know when that had changed.

"Jethro…how much longer do you expect me to do this?" she asked quietly. "You don't talk, you don't come home, hell, do you even _care_?"

"Diane,"

He stopped. It was the middle of the night, she was acting too gentle, he wasn't used to her not yelling and snapping.

Her hand slipped off of his shoulders and she stood there, waiting for something he wasn't going to give her.

"Go back to bed," he said gruffly.

"Go to hell," she responded a little sharply. He rested his forehead in his palm as she disappeared, aware that he'd probably made her cry.

He tilted his head back and slammed his fist down on the workbench next to him, wishing he hadn't come home at all. At work he didn't have to deal with this, having her in the house with all the other memories he couldn't put behind him.

Even if he worked with a woman now, at least Shepard wasn't always demanding he 'open up to her' or 'come home early' or 'tell her he loved her'.

* * *

Jenny titled her head back and ran her fingers through her hair, working out the knots that had settled from not brushing it after a hot shower. In her other hand she held a tumbler of scotch rested on her knee. She blinked her eyes a few times to chase sleep away, realizing she couldn't stay awake much longer. From her place, curled on the couch in her what would always be her father's study, she smiled tiredly at the man across the room in the armchair.

"Bahrain was okay?" she asked, stifling a yawn. He shrugged, and nodded slightly. She hadn't seen him since a week before she left FLET-C, and even though there was a lot of unresolved emotion between them, she was glad to see someone familiar.

"NCIS working you to death, Jenny?" he asked, with an amused smile.

"Shut up, Harm." She said, laughing a little. She took a drink of the scotch and swallowed, closing her eyes briefly. "The case we just closed was killer," she added.

"I know; I watch the news. Your boss told the guy from channel five to—"

"Yeah, I was there," she muttered, remembering Gibbs' exact, unpleasant words. They lapsed into comfortable silence and he shifted in his chair, stretching out his legs and crossing them.

She missed having him around in a nostalgic way, but she knew they'd never get back the relationship they'd once had. It was mostly her fault, and she shouldered that responsibility. What had happened to her father had been beyond her control, and her reaction—in his opinion—had been out of control. FLET-C, NCIS, and everything in between had damaged what they had irreparably.

"You like it there?" he asked. Looking him at him over the rim of her glass, she thought about her answer for a split second before she surprised herself in answering confidently.

"Yes," she said, lowering the glass. "Its hands on, gritty. Challenging."

"Everything you love,"

She nodded, thinking about the past case. She'd almost hated Gibbs through the entire thing, while she tried to remind herself he was under as much stress as she was, maybe more since he was expected to perform above and beyond her. But some of the things he'd said to her had cut deep, whether he realized it or not.

"Jenny,"

"Hmmm?" she asked, looking up from her reverie and running her fingers through her hair again.

"You looked like you were dreaming,"

Jenny looked at him, wondering how late he was expecting to stay. Wondering if she could turn him down if this glass of scotch led to another.

"Tired," she said shortly

"Ah," he nodded, "how do they treat you?" he asked, always concerned about her happiness. She smiled, remembering everything she'd loved about him.

"Gibbs…" she paused a moment, draining the rest of her scotch and chewing her lip, "Gibbs is a bastard," she said slowly, smiling. "He pushes me. He…I like working with him." She muttered.

She twisted the tumbler in her hand as it sat on her knee, looking across the room. He got up from the chair and she hesitated, moving slowly as she stood up as well. Her robe hit her just at the knee and she set the glass down on her father's desk, folding her arms.

She didn't say a word to him for a moment, and he smiled, shaking his head. She wanted to know what he was thinking, but she didn't pry. It wasn't her. Jenny didn't want people poking around in her mind, so she didn't nag at them for their thoughts.

"It's over for good, isn't it Jenny? There's no chance," he said, matter-of-factly. There was the tiniest bit of hope in his voice.

She reached out and touched his arm above the elbow, squeezing, sorry she had to crush that hope.

"I love you, Harm," she said sincerely, "I know all this is my fault, but it's over. I would only hurt you in the end." She said.

He didn't understand her determination to avenge her father; she was consumed by it. He wanted to get married, and so had she, before everything had been taken from her; now they were different people, and she'd taken off his ring nearly a month ago. It would have ended, sometime or other, they both knew it.

"Good luck, Jenny," he said.

She reached up and cupped his chin in her palm, pulling him down for one last kiss. His lips were gentle and familiar under hers, but there was nothing; no spark, no colors. He was her best friend, but he wasn't a lover anymore.

She was too different.

"Goodnight," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

She didn't watch his back as he left; she turned her back on him and went back to the couch, picking up her empty glass. She looked at it thoughtfully, her mind clouded with work, glad to be alone in this study.

She hated the emptiness of this house. She missed her father. The case they'd just finished had been grueling, and crazily enough she wanted to be back at work anyway, because there at least she had someone to snap at who didn't make her feel guilty for being a bitch.

The ringing of her phone startled her out of her reverie, and as she reached for it on the desk she checked the clock on the wall.

Five a.m.

"Shepard," she said sleepily.

"Two sailors murdered in Norfolk, on liberty off a carrier in port,"

He hung up instantly, and Jenny pulled the phone away from her ear and glared at it. She cursed herself for opting to _think_ all night instead of getting some damn sleep.

* * *


	5. The Rules

_A/N:_ _Thanks to aserene. Just as a note: the timeline is kind of blurred and cases may run together, just so it's easier to focus on the development of their relationship._

**

* * *

**

Jenny Shepard pulled the hair elastic from between her teeth and tied her hair up with it, not bothered by the strays that hung around her face. She glanced down at the glove on her hand and made sure the Velcro was tight around her wrist before she left the women's locker room.

Burly was leaning against the wall outside of the locker room, chewing gum. He was always chewing gum. He grinned at her when she appeared and Jenny rolled her eyes in distaste. She didn't get on well with Stan; hadn't since her first day, and he was jealous of the respect she'd earned from Gibbs almost instantly.

"Nice outfit," he commented, making it clear he was checking her out.

She ignored him and looked around the gym. She refused to be shamed for wearing track pants and a sports bra, and she refused to react to his goading her.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Norfolk?" she asked mildly.

"Turns out I'm so good we had the case figured out in a few days; I'm back with you and Boss for the time being,"

"Wonderful," Jenny muttered.

She turned around to face Stan and studied him quietly, not having found Gibbs anywhere in the gym. They were in the middle of a case that had hit every dead end possible, and Gibbs was in one of his moods.

"You lookin' for someone to spar with?" Burly asked slowly, raising his eyebrows. Jenny scoffed at him.

"I'd kick your ass," she informed him. "I'm training with Gibbs," she added.

"He's not here," Stan rightly stated. Jenny looked at him for a moment and shrugged.

"Eh, why not," she muttered, turning and heading for the closest mat.

He was dressed in jeans and a collared shirt, where she was in looser, more appropriate clothing. Anyone else would know that put them at a disadvantage, but Burly was too cocky to acknowledge anything that could weaken him, and he especially wasn't worried about getting his ass kicked by a girl.

Jenny smirked slightly to herself. He most likely wasn't aware she'd been a black belt since before high school.

"I'll get the gloves,"

"You need them?" she asked, mildly challenging. He hesitated.

"No," he answered, taking a position opposite her on the mat. He stepped forward and she relaxed into a defensive position. "I don't want to hurt you, Shepard," he warned chivalrously.

"I'm not too concerned," she whispered back, wrinkling her nose. He planted his feet and she nodded to signal she was ready; Stan gave her a strong punch and she held up her arm, blocking his fist easily. He looked surprised but recovered easily, turning his shoulder slightly into her as he tried to go for her left arm.

Jenny parried his blow again, grabbed his hand where it was curled into a fist and jerked it forward, successfully flipping him forward onto his back. He gasped as his head smacked against the mat and she bent forward, putting a hand on one side of his head and smiling sweetly at him.

"I hope I didn't hurt you, Stan," she stated.

"I wasn't ready," he muttered. She narrowed her eyes and pushed his head back into the mat.

"Got your ass kicked, Steve," Gibbs' voice echoed around the gym, slightly amused. "Let 'im up, Shepard,"

She looked up from her victim as Gibbs walked past them without a second glance. She reluctantly stood and backed away from Stan, allowing him to get up, and he didn't bother to correct Gibbs on his name as he started to protest:

"It was a fluke, boss, I—she…er,"

"Never underestimate your opponent," Gibbs growled over Stan's stammering, as he sat down on a nearby bench and laced his show. "You've got a call in MTAC from Norfolk. Seems you missed something," he added.

Jenny grinned wickedly at Stan, as he looked abashed and turned to leave the gym, presumably to go see about the job he'd done _so_ well at Norfolk.

"In the ring, Shepard," Gibbs ordered, jerking his thumb over to the left of the gym.

Jenny walked over to the ring and ducked under the ropes, pulling herself up easily and leaning into the side, picking at a loose fiber of the restraints. He made his way over soon after, glancing at her feet before he got up in the ring.

"No heels," he commented sarcastically.

"Of course not, that would be silly," she answered as if it where the most obvious thing in the world, "I could go put them on, though, if they turn you on or something…"

He looked from her bare feet back up to her face and smirked, shaking his head slightly.

"You don't like Burly," he said, leaning back against the ropes himself and stretching his arms to work the muscles, stiff from sitting in a desk all morning.

"He does not treat me as an equal," she responded curtly, "Are we here to chat or fight?" she asked, moving on.

She didn't want him thinking she needed his help getting Burly to shut his asinine mouth.

"You got the rules down, Shepard?" he asked in response. She noticed he didn't ask her if she wanted the gloves or not; he didn't use them either.

She looked at him quizzically, and he smirked, beckoning her forward.

"Train on defensive," he said, bending down slightly to her level, "if I'm the suspect, and I attack, show me how you protect yourself before you show me offensive,"

"Oh, this is _role_ playing…" she trailed off. "Never was my thing," she added, starting with an offensive attack against his wishes.

He grunted but parried easily, grabbing her wrists and thrusting her backwards, so she stumbled, caught off guard. She hadn't sparred with Gibbs before, and she admitted to herself she'd half-expected him to go easy on her like all other men did.

They way he advanced on her now and basically gave her no chance to steady herself informed her otherwise. She dodged him narrowly and when he turned to catch her aimed a punch at his jaw, which he barely ducked away from. He grabbed her arm and locked his arm around her neck, holding her still.

"Rule three," he barked loudly in her ear, and she gasped, involuntarily scratching at his hand.

"Always wear gloves at a crime scene," she managed, and he let her go, pushing her forwards with a little less force this time. She turned around, scowling and rubbing her neck.

"When did I join the marines?" she snapped.

"The day you started working for me," he answered, taking a defensive stance and beckoning her forward again. This time she put into use some of her FLET-C training and went for the abdomen, managing to get in one good hit to his ribs before he blocked her expertly. After a few more throws and parries, he crossed his arms against hers in the air between them, putting pressure on her. She bit her lip as she pressed back, determined not to let him shove her backwards again.

"Rule four,"

"Never believe what you're told," she yelped breathlessly, throwing her body weight forward and getting him off of her. He walked back a little, looking impressed. "Double check," she added, catching her breath.

"Rule two," he said from a few feet away from her, probably catching his own breath. She threw herself at him and smiled as he fell back against the ropes in surprise, blocking her blow but losing his footing all the same. His back hit the mat and she landed next to him, her palm on his chest.

"Never let suspects stay together,"

He pushed her back at the shoulder and got up easily, holding out his hand. She took it and allowed him to pull her up, not for one second trusting him. Sure enough, he pulled her arm behind her back, put his hand on the back of her head, and pushed her forward, holding her tightly.

"Seven," he said hoarsely.

"Be specific when you lie," she choked, struggling against his grip. She winced when he twisted her wrist a little more.

"How're you gonna get yourself out of this, Jenny?" he growled in her ear. She took a deep breath to relax herself a little and wrenched upwards, thrusting her elbow into his side below his ribs. He grunted and released her immediately.

She turned around, backing away slowly, watching him touch his side gingerly. Blowing air out of her mouth, she tucked her hair behind her ears and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, hot, and wishing she'd thought of a sweatband.

He watched her roll her shoulders back and smirked, realizing he'd underestimated her himself. She held her own in every aspect of this job, from the bullpen to, obviously, the training ring.

"You quitting on me?" she asked, her breath even again.

"Rule eight," he responded, straightening up and coming towards her.

"Never take anything—" she broke off as he gripped her arm and pulled her around, but this time she didn't let him lock her against him again; she twisted, hissing as she hurt herself, and threw a punch with her other arm, hitting him square in the jaw. His eyes widened and he cursed, touching his jaw in surprise. "—for granted," she panted, bending forward to put her hands on her knees.

She looked up at him and grinned. She straightened a little and took her stance again, holding one arm in front of her defensively. She thrust her fist out, underhanded, and he surprised her by catching easily, holding it between them.

"Rule nine,"

Summoning most of her strength, she jerked her hand out of his grip and spun around, employing her black belt training. She caught him directly at the knee with her leg and he went down with a grunt of shock. She dropped over him, putting her hands on either side of his head and jamming her knee into his stomach.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows at her as she showed him her hand, holding her knife delicately between thumb and forefinger as she flicked it open and flashed the blade. Thrown off, he nodded in approval at her, a little wary at the same time.

He had no idea where she'd been keeping that.

"Always carry a knife," she hissed, dropping it into the mat next to his head.

She smirked, smacking the mat next to his head.

"Give?" she asked.

"Fifteen," he said instead.

"Always work as a team," she answered immediately, raising en eyebrow triumphantly.

"Twelve," he said without stopping. She opened her mouth and stopped, hesitating, racking her brains. He grabbed the hand she was resting most of her wait on and jerked it; she shrieked as she lost her balance and fell. He flipped her over and planted his knees on either side of her waist, his turn to smirk now, waiting. She glared at him, breathing heavily, as he pinned her arms above her head and pushed them uncomfortable into the mat.

She decided it was spectacularly bad timing to notice how incredibly blue his eyes were.

"Guess I missed that one," she conceded finally, kicking herself. She'd swear she'd never heard him mention any rule twelve before this moment.

"Never date a lawyer," he said, with a grin.

Jenny narrowed her eyes, at a loss for words for a moment. She glared at him for a moment and bit her lips, the statement hitting a nerve that wasn't as un-healed as she thought.

"Do you mind getting off of me?" she asked through gritted teeth. He released her arms and moved; she pushed herself up to a sitting position and reached down to take the unraveling ace bandage from her foot.

Gibbs sat himself and wiped his forehead, watching her shoulders closely. She'd tensed up, and paused a moment, taking a breath, before she pushed herself up and turned to face him, her arms crossed. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

He figured it was an incredibly bad time to focus on her exposed, tone abdomen and other…attributes. He shook his head, trying to chase away his thoughts.

"You got a thing for lawyers, Shepard?" he asked. She looked angry for a moment, and then conflicted, and he wondered just what part of his rule was niggling her the most.

"What do you have against them?" she snapped.

"First wife was one," he said, standing up and snatching a towel someone had left off of the ropes closest to him. She watched him stiffly.

"Doesn't make them all bad," she said shortly, turning and ducking under the ropes. He watched her enter the locker room and let the door swing shut a little forcefully behind her.

He reached up and touched his jaw gingerly, moving his mouth. He flinched. Gibbs smirked slightly to himself, throwing the towel over his shoulder.

He figured he'd call this exercise a draw.

* * *

Heels back on her feet, Jenny sat in the break room with Fiona, spinning the top to her bottled water on the table in front of her. Fiona was slurping some smoothie she'd swindled out of one of the senior agents, munching on a bag of chips.

"So, we've really found all we can find on your case, Jenny. I'm sorry," she was saying, chewing on her straw, "I know; dead ends _suck_. Mostly because well all know Gibbs thinks it's everyone else's personal agenda to create them."

Jenny laughed and leaned back, taking a long drink of her water. She was still hot from the work out in the gym, and the air conditioning at NCIS was temperamental at best. Today it was throwing a hissy fit. She envied Fiona's skirt and tank top.

Fiona started humming to herself and Jenny smiled, still wishing she had something to take back to the bullpen to stop Gibbs from berating her about her reaction to his rule twelve. She hadn't even meant to react that way; he'd just caught her off guard. She didn't realize how guilty she still felt about Harm.

"Mmm!" Fiona said suddenly, breaking off in mid-hum. She reached forward and grabbed Jenny's hand on the table, holding it up, "Are you getting married?" she asked, pointing to her ring finger.

Jenny widened her eyes considerably at the question; she knew she wasn't wearing a ring. Looking down she realized there was a tan line around her ring finger where the diamond had used to be. Gently she pulled her hand back from Fiona's grasp.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Didn't work out?" Fiona asked, not really prodding but opening the conversation anyway.

Jenny stopped spinning the top and capped her water bottle, holding it in both hands on the table while she searched for words to answer with.

"Wasn't the right thing for me," she answered, getting up with a small smile and leaving Fiona to her lunch. She groaned as she left the break room, having nowhere else to go but back to the bullpen. She prayed violently for a break in the case, for anything to do.

She hesitated slightly as she heard Gibbs' raised voice from the bullpen, tilting her head. She started forward again, more slowly this time, curious as to who was getting chewed out since she wasn't around.

She hoped Stan was back, and it was him.

"I don't care," came his growl. It sounded like he was trying very hard to control his temper.

There was a pause.

"So _help_ me…Diane, if you don't—"

"I'd steer clear," a voice muttered in her ear and she turned slightly to see who it was. She was almost immune to people sneaking up on her now; it came from working with the master of creeping around.

Pacci nodded towards the bullpen, where they both saw Gibbs stand up slightly, his silver hair appearing over the walls.

"His wife?" Jenny asked. Pacci only nodded, before he turned to look at her a little more closely.

"I heard you can throw a punch," he commented, his eyes twinkling good-naturedly. Jenny looked at him, smiled, and looked back at Gibbs, ignoring Pacci's advice and starting towards the bullpen.

"I'm sure Gibbs will recover," she said as she walked off, and heard Pacci chuckling behind her.

"I don't give a damn what you do—ah, _hell_ Diane—"

Another pause. Jenny entered the bullpen and walked to her desk sitting down and leaning back quietly. His eyes flicked to her before he responded to whatever his wife had said.

"You go right ahead." He barked, snapping the phone closed and chucking it violently into and open drawer at his desk. Jenny jumped involuntarily as he slammed the drawer shut, creating a resounding bang.

"Know any good lawyers?" he snarled, looking directly at her as he shoved his chair into his desk and came around it, knocking off a can of pencils on his way.

"I need coffee," she heard him muttered darkly as he stormed out of the bullpen.

Jenny raised her eyebrows to no one in particular and looked blankly at the abused drawer of Gibbs desk. Deciding she didn't really want to be there when he got back, she stood right back up again and went for the elevator, taking it down to autopsy.

She peeked in the window to make sure Ducky didn't have anyone lying open on the table. No matter how many autopsies Gibbs sat her though, and no matter how much willpower it took for her not to gag just to prove herself to him, she still wasn't a fan of staring into an open chest cavity.

He appeared to be just sewing someone up, so she let the doors swing open as they caught her movement and entered, smiling when he looked up.

"Good afternoon, Jenny. Anything new on the case?" he asked warmly. Jenny folded her arms as she walked around to one of the tables, leaning down on it.

"No," she said, taking her eyes off of the thick twine Ducky was using to sew up his current body, "and I think Gibbs might go off the deep end if something doesn't happen soon."

"Ah yes, well he does have a tendency to…overreact."

Jenny just raised her eyebrows, and Ducky shrugged good-naturedly; they were both aware that was the understatement of the century.

Ducky tied off the twine he was holding and gave the body a sympathetic look before her turned away and pulled off his gloves. Leaning back against his desk, he focused his full attention on Jenny.

"Tea, my dear?" he asked. She shook her head. "What brings you down to my part of the building?" he asked.

Jenny smiled, remembering exactly why she'd liked Ducky so much from the start. He was so kind and caring, and showed just the right amount of interest in his peers' wellbeing without being nosy. Of course, there had also been the tea he'd given her after her performance in autopsy the first time she'd met him. That had warmed her to him instantly.

"Do you know Gibbs' wife?" she asked after a moment, figuring it was worth it no matter what answer she got.

All she knew was that he was married, and she'd figured that out by talking to Pacci. Gibbs didn't wear his ring at work. She knew he'd been married before, and his current wife called him frequently. And he subsequently ignored her.

Ducky's eyebrows went up slightly and he nodded. She guessed he thought it was a valid question.

"I've met Diane quite a few times," he answered. "I was at their wedding," he paused and tilted his head at her slightly, "why the interest, my dear?" he asked curiously.

Jenny shrugged slightly and chewed her lip thoughtfully, shifting on her arms so they wouldn't fall asleep as she leaned on them.

"He doesn't go home, he comes in early," she stopped and snorted slightly, "I think he broke another phone today," she added.

Ducky sighed, shaking his head. He looked a little sad. Jenny paused for him to say something, and mused on when he didn't.

"I didn't know if you knew her and knew—"

"Diane can be," he paused as if trying to be gentlemanly, "difficult." He finished finally.

"So she's why he doesn't go home at night," Jenny muttered, thinking back to a few days ago when she'd come in to find him sprawled across his desk fast asleep.

"I'm not quite sure that's it," Ducky said. Jenny studied him closely, not sure what he meant. She thought, from the look on his face, he wasn't so sure either.

She sat in comfortable silence with the old Medical Examiner for a moment, thinking. She wasn't sure why she was so interested in Gibbs' wife suddenly, except for maybe because of the dramatic exit he'd made upstairs—and perhaps the off-hand, unconscious remarks he made about Diane.

"Oh, Jenny,"

The doors opened with a swish and Fiona's breathy voice was heard over them, she walked in carrying a file and looked out of breath.

"Agent Gibbs is yelling for you—and I mean actually yelling," she informed her, a sympathetic tone to her voice. Jenny rolled her eyes and pushed herself off Ducky's table, starting towards the door.

"He found something in your case," Fiona said as she left, "And he didn't have coffee with him!" she yelled after Jenny as the doors swished shut.

Jenny stepped in the elevator and raised her eyes to the ceiling with a groan. So he'd broken his cell phone, had a violent fight with his wife on the phone, and been denied his comfort coffee just in time to get a break in the case and demand her presence.

_Great_.

* * *


	6. Stakeout

_A/N: Thanks to aserene!_

**

* * *

**

Jethro Gibbs hung up his phone forcefully for what had to be the sixth time, and made a mental note to beat rule five into Jenny Shepard—if she ever decided to make herself available. He'd called her extension at work twice, her cell three times, and even tried her landline.

No answer.

This is how he ended up parked in the street in front of her townhouse, the address to which he'd gotten out of her file at NCIS. He glared daggers at the stately house as he got out of his car and slammed the door. This was their weekend off, but that did not give her the right to drop off the face of the earth.

Morrow had called them in _personally_, and she decided to be unreachable.

He knocked on the door sharply, and it opened almost instantly. A Latina woman stood there, furrowed her brow slightly, and asked:

"May I help you, Senor?"

He was momentarily distracted by the fact that Shepard had a housekeeper, and didn't reply.

"Who is it, Noemi?" her voice drifted from upstairs, and the woman glanced over her shoulder and back at Gibbs, waiting for him to introduce himself.

"Gibbs," he said gruffly.

"Senor Gibbs," Noemi repeated up the stairs.

Silence.

"What?" her voice was closer this time, and a few seconds later Jenny appeared at the top of the staircase, stopping after she took a few steps down. She pursed her lips, obviously confused.

"Rule six, Shepard," he barked, stepping in past Noemi and glaring at her up the stairs, his teeth gritted together. "_Never_ be unreachable,"

She stared at him for a moment. Her red hair was messily tied up in a bun, and she stood in front of him in socks, cotton shorts and—annoyingly enough—a JAG t-shirt. So not only was she unreachable, she was supporting the enemy. He chose to ignore the t-shirt and started to yell at her again when she snapped out of her reverie and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm not on call, Gibbs," she pointed out, "I don't have to be; that rule doesn't apply."

He was momentarily stunned she dared question when the rules did and did not apply.

"The rules always apply," he growled.

"I do not have to be _reachable_ if we're not on call," she said stubbornly.

"Do you understand the meaning of the word 'never'?" he fired back sarcastically.

She blinked at him, her eyes flashing. He knew just how much she hated it when he talked down to her or questioned her intelligence.

"Do you understand the phrase 'go to hell'?" she asked just as sarcastically. He almost smirked in response, but bit it back. Noemi was still holding the door open, looking a little frightened by the exchange. Jenny advanced down the steps a little. "I've worked my ass off all week on the case we just finished; it is my weekend _off_."

"You can explain that to Morrow when we get to headquarters," he retorted.

Jenny hesitated, backtracking her anger a little.

'The _Director_ called us in?" she asked. He nodded curtly.

"Er," she said, looking like she regretted not answering her phone or not being around it or whatever had prevented her from being around.

"Let's go," he said sharply, jerking his head at the door.

"I'll go change,"

"Huh-uh," he said, and she stopped short, narrowing her eyes at him again. "No time. _You've_ already kept him waiting," he said with a shrug, turning around and walking out onto the porch.

"I'm at least putting shoes on!" she yelled angrily.

"I don't think heels go with that outfit," he smirked, taking the steps at a fast pace and taking the car keys out of his pocket as he approached the car.

Five minutes later she was staring silently in front of her in the front seat, her arms crossed tightly, tennis shoes on her feet. She didn't live far from NCIS, and he could very well have let her stew in silence. But he decided it would be more fun to bug her.

"What were you doing that was so important, anyway?" he asked. She didn't answer, so he made it a point to glare at her t-shirt before he took his eyes off the road, looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Sleeping with the enemy?" he asked sardonically.

"What do you have against JAG?" she asked sharply, turning to look at him.

"I'm an NCIS Agent," he answered shortly. "Lawyers get in the way,"

"Except when you need them to get rid of a wife," she responded viciously.

Jenny bit her lip and looked away, out the opposite window. He didn't respond, didn't even flinch, and still she didn't know why she'd let herself say that. It was none of her business anyway, and she herself hadn't been too fond of lawyers lately. But the defense lawyers of their suspects were different from JAG lawyers—very different, in her opinion.

She didn't look back at him for the rest of the ride, and he didn't goad her with another word. When he parked at headquarters and they got out of the car, she closed her eyes briefly before shutting her door and calling his name. He looked at her, his face just as unreadable as ever.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't apologize," he interrupted, "it's a sign of weakness."

She clamped her mouth shut and started after him into the building, showing her badge at the security check.

She was still thinking about his words when they arrived on MTAC level, where she guessed they'd been ordered to report by Morrow. He bent down to eye-level and let the cornea scan give them access; she followed him silently into the dark.

Director Morrow looked up at them as they entered and nodded briefly, signaling to a nearby tech to switch the monitor to a different screen. The picture and stats of a Columbian national appeared, the man in the picture looking both unkempt and evil.

Morrow stood from his chair and beckoned them forward, handing a file to Gibbs as they came to the center of the room.

"Intel says Raul Soto's back in the country," he said grimly. Jenny watched as Gibbs' jaw set firmly and he gripped the file tighter, looking at the man on the monitor.

"He's not back for vacation," Gibbs said with grim irony. Morrow shook his head with his own grim smile.

"Extradition prevented you from getting him last time, Jethro, and we wanted him as much as you and Franks. I pulled some strings higher up; you bust him with anything heavier than marijuana, you bring him in and the US drops immunity,"

Gibbs nodded, his eyes still focused on the screen. Jenny looked from him to Morrow carefully, reading the offenses on the screen: murder, arms dealing, drug running. The man had done it all.

"How will we bust him?" Jenny asked, looking at Morrow.

"Clock his every move," the Director answered, turning away from the screen to face them. "An anonymous tip—that you might thank someone at the FBI for, Gibbs,--has him in the old, half-burnt slums in Baltimore. One of the tech lackeys is going to get you set with the recording devices you need,"

Gibbs nodded in understanding and jerked his glance away from Raul Soto, his eyes hard.

"We got a place?" he asked. Morrow nodded.

"Address is in the file. Stay out of sight," he warned, looking at Gibbs closely for a moment. "Go," he said finally, signaling to the tech to bring up what he'd been viewing before they interrupted.

Gibbs spun on his heel and left, Jenny following him quickly.

"Jethro," the Director stopped the mat the door, his back to them. "Bring him in," he said glancing back before he finished his sentence, "preferably _alive_."

Gibbs allowed Jenny out before him and let the door to MTAC slam shut.

* * *

He could tell she wasn't thrilled about their quarters; but Gibbs gave Shepard points for not saying a word in complaint. Even Burly had whined about that room they'd been cramped in for days in Pittsburg. She dropped a duffle bag with the bare essentials in it on the floor and set down her backpack more gently as he went about angling the camera they were using just right in the window.

They'd picked up their electronics from the Cyber Unit and left headquarters, reaching Baltimore in under an hour with Gibbs driving. Jenny was no longer in her shorts and t-shirt; when he'd come back from the Cyber Unit to fill her in, he'd found her perched on his desk in business casual attire, down to the precious heels on her feet.

He hadn't said a word to tease her about that stupid fetish; he was too busy trying to figure out where she got a change of clothes. She'd already deduced they were going on a stakeout, and produced a duffle bag as well. He had no idea what was in it.

A quick call to Diane to let her know he'd be gone for a few days was all that had been left to do before they headed out of NCIS.

"Soto is there?" Jenny asked, peering out the window across the dirty street below to a window a floor below theirs.

"According to intel," he replied, checking the lens on the one camera to make sure it covered the parameter out one side of the window. He motioned for her to set up the other one and she complied, managing it much faster than him.

She was good with electronics.

Jenny checked the lens on her camera and affirmed that it was working. She stepped back and moved out of the way of the window, adjusting the curtains with it. The room was empty, rather dark, and dirty—with this one single window. There was a bathroom down the hall.

Director Morrow hadn't been kidding when he said 'old, burnt down slums'.

"Baltimore P.D.'s agreed to steer clear so they won't screw anything up," Gibbs said gruffly, kicking a sleeping bag across the room to the corner. "We watch 24/7. One of us at all times. Do _not_," he stopped, looking straight at her, "let your weapon out of your sight."

Jenny nodded, swallowing hard.

He hadn't explained anything about Raul Soto to her, so she'd snatched the file off his desk while he was packing their equipment and read over the past reports. The Soto case had been Gibbs' when he was working with his old partner; he was a Columbian drug lord who'd murdered six civilians in connection with a drug case. NCIS had gotten involved when a young female Petty Officer had stepped in to help a girl Soto was harassing and in turn been raped and murdered.

The fact that he'd gotten away to Columbia after that, _and_ they were denied extradition, no doubt crawled under Gibbs' skin like spiders.

"Are we allowed to leave?" she asked.

"For food," he answered shortly. Jenny nodded.

She wasn't thrilled to be stuck in a room with him for an extended amount of time when coffee was unavailable and there was someone on the loose who had personally offended him. That, and the fact that this place was filthy, was kind of a downer.

But she wasn't going to say a damn thing.

She moved away from the door and dragged her duffle and backpack towards the middle of the room, where she removed their crime scene kit and a laptop, along with a bottle of water. He stood up, and brushed passed her to the door.

"I'll be in the head," he said, disappearing down the hall.

Jenny rocked back on her heels and looked at the stuff spread out before her. Unwilling to get back up, she crawled over to the window and looked through the camera, scanning the streets below. This place was devoid of life except for the occasional gangster or streetwalker.

She narrowed her eyes as she caught sight of movement to the side of the building opposite. A man with obvious facial hair glanced around the streets below him before entering the building; and after a few seconds Jenny could follow him taking the outside staircase up a few floors. Zooming in slightly, she was able to see an elaborate tattoo of some kind of snake on his arm.

She heard Gibbs's footsteps behind her and turned slightly, smiling.

"Intel was right," she informed him.

* * *

Jethro Gibbs had not had coffee in his system for at least twenty four hours. He could snap at any moment. They had seen nothing for the past day and a half—no one on the streets, no one in Soto's apartment. He came and left at the same hour every day. The only visitor he'd had was a roughed up looking hooker. Gibbs had placed one quick call to Headquarters to update Morrow on the situation, trying to get permission to tail Soto.

He'd been denied.

So he stared out the window with a set jaw and stinging eyes, trying not to revert to his Marine training and just shoot Soto the next time he showed up on the street. He was positive he could still make the shot, even with a SIG.

Stakeouts were never as fun as they sounded. Agents got tired, slacked off, made mistakes. At the moment they were restless—no, that was a lie. He was restless. He wanted to track Soto down and rip him a new one, instead of watching like a peaceful law-keeper. Shepard, on the other hand, was asleep and currently using his knees as a pillow.

Which was convenient for her, but not for him. His legs were starting to go numb.

He didn't know at what point she'd conked out; he just remembered at one point turning to tell her to go get some food and finding her fast asleep. She moved a lot while she was sleeping, too. And occasionally muttered to herself.

It was kind of entertaining.

He was wary of waking her up. Diane threw pretty impressive fits when he woke her up, even if it was accidentally. He wasn't sure he wanted to risk Jenny reacting the same way; Diane only yelled while Jenny might slug him.

"Always…_knife_…"

Gibbs raised his eyebrow at the sleeping redhead as she twitched slightly and rolled over, curling her body inward and tucking her chin down. Slowly, he tried to move his knee from under her head and cross his legs.

She opened an eye and looked at him blearily.

"I hate you," she informed him moodily, her voice thick with sleep.

"I wasn't trying to wake you up," he defended mildly, shrugging.

"Liar," she accused, pushing herself up and reaching behind her to rub her neck. She rolled it on her shoulders and winced.

"You're more fun when you're asleep," he argued.

She stopped rubbing her neck and narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"What did you do?" she hissed, glancing down at herself. He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but he smirked in return.

"You talk in your sleep," he answered.

"Do not," she snapped, pulling herself to an Indian style position and reaching for a half-empty bag of chips in Gibbs' backpack. He let her get away with it, not hungry anymore anyway.

"Yeah," he returned, amused. Her ears flushed red just a little. "Said something about _frogs_."

She stiffened a little and looked down at the chips, debating whether to eat them. She decided in favor of the chips and put one in her mouth, glaring at him but not giving him another response.

She only talked in her sleep when she wasn't sleeping well, and it was hard to sleep in this damn room.

"I miss anything good?" she asked, standing up and stretching. Gibbs looked at the cameras and then up at her from the floor, shaking his head.

"A hooker, three stray dogs—and the mouse that ran across your feet while you were sleeping."

She froze and widened her eyes slightly.

"Kidding," he said, grinning at the look on her face. She threw the bag of chips at him, scattering crumbs all over.

"Jenny," he snapped, dodging out of the way.

"You're an _asshole_," she said, smiling in spite of herself.

She blew out a breath of air and leaned against the wall closest to her, propping herself up with one leg bent behind her. Reaching up to release her hair from its pony tail, she looked at him with a tilted head.

"You sure we can't chase after him?" she asked.

He nodded, making his annoyance clear.

"How much trouble do we get in if we do it _anyway_?" she asked slyly.

"A lot," he answered.

"You speaking from experience?" she asked.

He just looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

"Of course you are," she muttered, ignoring the glare he gave her and giving him an innocent smile instead. She started to slide down the wall, and sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, rolling her head to one side and staring out the window.

"I'm bored." She complained dully.

He looked away from her, out to the window, and smiled. He knew her going on forever without whining or asking annoying questions was too good to be true. The odd thing was it didn't _bother_ him. She didn't complain like she expected him to fix it; she just stated it as a fact. That, and he was bored as hell too.

Until Shepard decided, involuntarily he would bet, to fix that.

Without warning she let out a piercing shriek and leapt up from her spot on the floor, stumbling backwards. Reacting instantly to her scream of panic, Gibbs shoved himself up, his hand falling automatically to his SIG.

Jenny's foot hit the laptop she'd left on the floor and she cursed, falling backwards. He managed to steady her before she fell and held her up with one arm.

"KILL IT!" she ordered, thrusting her arm out and pointing at the wall she'd been leaning on.

Confused, Gibbs followed her gesture.

There, on the wall, was one of the biggest spiders he'd ever seen. Inches away from where she'd been sitting five seconds ago.

After staring at it for a moment, he started laughing. He let Jenny go and relaxed his hand, stepping back.

"It's just a _spider_, Jenny—"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him forward in front of her, her eyes livid.

"Kill. It." She ordered, stomping her foot.

He stared at her, not quite sure whether she was actually acting like this or just being funny. This was the woman he'd seen pick up a dead bird without gloves at a crime scene once. She scared _Harper_, for god's sake; there was no way the spider was freaking her out this bad.

With a groan, he shook her arm off and stepped forward, picking up a shoe as he advanced on the wall. As he moved closer, the spider crawled up the wall slightly.

Jenny screamed.

He turned around and gave her an incredulous look.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"It's _moving_, kill it before it— JETHRO _KILL_ _IT_." She ordered again, her voice rising.

Gibbs stepped up to the wall, thrust out his hand, and smacked the wall with the shoe. The spider was conquered. He dropped the shoe on the ground and turned around. She straightened up and refused to look embarrassed.

"I don't like spiders,"

"_Gee_, Shepard, _really_?" he replied sarcastically.

She glared at him and backed across the room to the opposite wall, giving the place where the spider had been a moody look. She sat down closer to the window, their only source of semi-fresh air, and pulled his sleeping bag towards her, stretching her legs out. She turned her head towards the window.

"Your turn to sleep," she offered.

He stood watching her, and shook his head.

"No; dinner," he said. "I'm getting Chinese."

* * *

Jenny hung up her phone after a quiet conversation with the Director. She updated him with pretty much the same information as Gibbs had a few hours earlier: Soto was staying holed up in his room except to see hookers, or occasionally leave.

She was going stir crazy in here.

She got up quietly with a sideways glance at Gibbs, who was sleeping propped against the wall with his arms folded in front of him. Well, he looked like he was sleeping; she wasn't sure she bought it. She doubted he would let her keep an eye on Soto all by herself since he tended to act like he was the only one capable of doing things right.

Jenny reached for her heels, they being the closest pair of shoes, and slipped them on, tip-toeing across the room.

The floor creaked slightly.

"Where're you going?" Gibbs asked sharply. She glared at him from the doorway. Of course he hadn't really been asleep.

"Head," she answered truthfully.

Gibbs shifted his position so he could see out the window better and didn't say another word. She resumed her exit and walked carefully down the hall to the bathroom reluctantly. The facility was nasty; she only used it when the need became dire.

When she came out of the bathroom five minutes later, she stopped short when she found Gibbs standing at the end of the hall by the busted up window, crouched down and to the side. He glanced up when he heard her move and beckoned her forward, placing a finger to his lips.

Silently, she moved forward, keeping to the side and squatting down opposite him. He pointed out the window.

Jenny had to squint in the dark, but after a moment she could make out Raul Soto in the very dim evening light. He was on their side of the street next to a broken lamp post, conversing with a very tall woman.

"Hooker?" Jenny mouthed, raising an eyebrow. He shook his head.

"He met her outside his place," Gibbs muttered back almost inaudibly, "then led her over here."

Jenny turned her eyes back to Soto and flinched back slightly when he turned his head upwards, appearing to search the face of the building. Worried, she looked at Gibbs; his shoulders had tightened considerably.

"He knows he's being watched?" she murmured, half certain. Gibbs took a long look and turned away, relaxing back against the wall. He turned his head to the side and looked at her. Slowly, he nodded.

"Think that counts as 'only confront if threatened'?" Jenny asked quietly, cocking her head to the side. He smirked, and by way of answer, pointed towards the stairs on her side of the hall. She glanced behind her, taking in the dilapidated state of them, the way half of the wall was missing.

Gibbs pointed downwards, put his finger to his lips, and then jerked his head to his own side. Down another hall and to the left he'd take a different staircase.

Jenny nodded to show she understood and turned for the stairs, staying as low to the ground as possible. The stairs were so charred and unsteady she knew they wouldn't creak; the bigger worry was if they would hold her weight or not. She cursed Gibbs for getting the nicer side of the building as she gingerly took the steps, pressing her back against the wall.

She wasn't sure what Gibbs planned on doing once they got to ground level. Either he'd had enough and was going to book Soto right here, or they'd just listen in to catch some scuttlebutt, maybe hear about a good opportunity to bust him.

Honestly, Jenny hoped he'd snap and arrest the man. She wanted to go home and take a nice, hot bath.

Although, it hadn't been as bad to be locked up with Gibbs as she'd thought it be. He could actually be _funny_, at some times.

Jenny reached a point in the stairs where she could look clearly down a few floors and see Soto standing on the sidewalk with the woman. She put herself on the second floor and slunk down in the shadows, still unable to hear a thing.

Holding her breath for fear of being caught, she navigated the highly exposed place efficiently and was grateful to find walls around her again. Lightly, she stepped off the staircase into the street, standing just inside the doorway of the exit she was at, listening hard.

Dammit, they were speaking Spanish.

So, that meant the woman was more likely a contact of his than a hooker.

Feeling like he'd hear her if she so much as breathed, Jenny shifted her head and leaned forward, thinking back to all her school Spanish. She realized she was ten times better at French, and then mentally kicked herself for zoning off and focused back on Soto.

She found a hole in the frame of the long-gone door and peeked through, just in time to see Soto's hand slip into the woman's for the briefest second. She pulled her hand back and put it in her purse immediately.

"_Freeze_, Soto: NCIS!"

She'd been anticipating his shout and didn't jump; her hand reactively fell to her hip for her firearm.

At that moment, she realized with a sickening feeling it was on the floor up in their quarters; she hadn't thought she needed it in the head. Her heart hammered ten times faster than normal and her mouth went dry.

She heard a shout, recognized Gibbs' voice and her name, and saw Soto as he ran past the doorway. Without hesitation, she sprung into action and went after him, not giving a second thought to her heels.

No matter what Gibbs thought, she was damn good at running in heels.

Soto kept at least a length ahead of her, glancing back only once, and Jenny kept a steady pace easily. He turned a corner sharply and skidded to a stop when he was faced with a chain link fence. He turned violently on Jenny, jerking a gun from his belt, and fired—but not before she'd lowered her head slightly and launched herself forward at him.

She managed to lock his wrist in a vice-like grip, twisting it sharply until she heard a crack. The fun fell out of his hand and he cursed, shaking loose her other hand and backhanding her. Stumbling back with a gasp of pain, Jenny blinked, trying to re-orient herself.

His unharmed hand darted for the dropped gun and she kicked it out of the way, sending it spinning down the alley. Soto looked at her with bared teeth, shouted in Spanish, and laughed roughly, moving forward quickly and grabbing her shoulder.

He jerked her down to the ground and she half-blocked her fall with her shoulder and arm, biting her tongue against the pain.

"SHEPARD?"

Gibbs shouted harshly. Jenny couldn't answer; Soto reached down for her and she rolled out of the way, grabbing his foot and jerking. He went down halfway before he managed to shake her loose, hitting her in the jaw with his foot. She tasted blood as she pushed herself backwards and stood up.

Soto smiled sadistically at her and wiped his mouth.

"Forget your gun, little agent?" he asked, his accent thick.

"I don't really need it," she threw back, touching her mouth before she gave him a good right hook.

Soto, unprepared for such a straightforward attack, reeled back, grunting. He shook his head and growled at her, lunging forward violently and throwing her back against a brick wall, pinning her shoulder down.

His rough hand fell to her collar and jerked, breaking a few buttons at the top. Livid, Jenny jerked against his arms.

"The _hell_ you do," she snarled viciously, bringing her knee up into his groin. His face turned white and he loosened his grip tightly, pulling his hand away from her chest.

Taking the opportunity, she kicked out at him, catching him in the stomach.

"IN THE ALLEY, GIBBS!" she screamed as loudly as possible, hoping he was somewhere near.

Soto's eyes darkened as he straightened up.

"I hope Agent Gibbs doesn't think he'll be _bringing_ _me_ _in_," Soto barked, starting to smirk again.

Jenny's vision swam and she swallowed, her stomach flipping at the coppery taste of blood. Slamming her head against that wall might have done more than she cared to admit.

"I'll make him an example out of you," Soto said. Jenny barely managed to grab his arm and half-prevent him from hitting her directly. She lost her footing and her ankle bent on the heel.

She unwillingly let out a sharp cry of pain, and relaxed her grip. Soto grabbed her arm, twisted her arm behind her back, and pushed her head forward, holding her tightly.

Exactly how Gibbs had had her in the ring a week or so ago.

She jerked violently, trying to maneuver her elbow into his ribs as she had Gibbs, but he resisted, having angle himself to withstand it, anticipating that very move. The one arm he didn't have locked behind her back hung free, and she feigned trying to elbow him again, really going for a place on her belt.

"GIBBS," She shouted hoarsely. Soto moved his hand from the back of her head to her mouth and clamped his hand over it; a ring he was wearing cut her lip sharply.

Jenny slipped her knife out of her belt and flicked it open, jamming it with all her strength into the only place of Soto she could credibly reach—his upper thigh.

Soto howled and released her, throwing her against a wooden bench in the alley. Jenny managed to put her hands out to prevent herself from breaking her neck against it; she hit her head slightly against the backrest of the bench and slipped to the ground.

Soto advanced on her, pulling the knife out of his thigh and throwing it.

"I'll kill you with my bare hands," he snarled, his black eyes livid.

In a last-ditch effort, Jenny threw herself forward on the ground and went for the gun they'd long forgotten, turning it up at him with slightly shaking hands. She jerked the trigger and fired, missing him by inches. Blood spurted from his ear and he cursed at her, violently kicking the gun out of her hand. He bent down, grabbed her arm, jerked her up and put his hand dangerously at her neck, applying pressure.

Jenny gasped.

"JENNY,"

Soto's eyes snapped towards the entrance of the alley; Gibbs' voice was much closer this time. His grip relaxed a little and Jenny was able to pull away, grapping his arm and using it to pull herself up.

Soto reacted in slight panic and struck her recklessly at the shoulder, but it was enough. She was already injured, and stumbled back on her damaged foot unsteadily.

Faced with the decision of getting caught—and most likely killed—by Gibbs or finishing her off, the coward chose life.

He turned, dragged himself up the chain fence, and threw himself over it, leaving long blood stains from his knife wound and his gun behind.

_BANG, BANG!_

Gibbs' shots were fired in quick succession, but Soto was already over the fence.

"Shepard?" he yelled, his urgent footsteps hitting the pavement hard. "Jenny," he said gruffly, his voice quieter and closer. She opened her eyes, not having realized they'd been closed. He squatted in front of her, his gun on his knee. His ice blue eyes were hard and angry.

"Never leave the room without your weapon, Shepard!" he reprimanded harshly. He took her shoulder in his hand, "_NEVER_, do you _HEAR ME_?" he barked, shaking her shoulder.

She cried out in pain and glared at him, shoving his hand off and cradling it in her own hand slightly.

Gibbs set shifted his position and holstered his gun, glancing towards the fence where Soto had gotten away.

"You get 'im?" Jenny asked hoarsely.

"Don't think so," Gibbs answered in annoyance. He reached forward and put his hand gently under her chin, lifting her face up. He swore, wiping a little of the blood off of her face with his hand. He looked down to check out where she cradled her shoulder and his eyes fell to the ripped neck of her blouse.

His eyes snapped back on hers instantly.

"Did he _touch_ you?" Gibbs demanded sharply, reaching out with his other hand to finger the torn fabric. His eyes darkened to a frightening shade and his jaw stiffened at the thought.

"He _tried_," Jenny answered grimly. Gibbs' hand brushed against her skin and she shivered.

He looked back up to her face and lifted her chin a little more, examining her injuries. Shifting again, he wrapped his hand around her arm just below the shoulder and pulled her up with him, glancing down at her shoes.

He instantly noticed her favoring her left foot in the heels.

"_Jenny_," he hissed in a warning voice, looking at her pointedly.

"Save it," she snapped.

She closed her eyes against the dizziness that threatened her suddenly and shifted her weight towards him, leaning into his side.

Her extra weight was nothing to him. He moved his supporting arm to her waist and made sure she stood steady for a moment.

"Can you walk?" he asked.

Jenny snorted, mustering up enough sarcasm to save some face.

"Don't think you get to _carry_ me out of here like some knight in shining armor, Gibbs,"

* * *

_The plot thickens!_

_Alexa_


	7. Target

_A/N: Thanks to aserene!_

_*4sweetdreams pointed out that Rule# 3 is 'Never Be Unreachable', Not 5. That's my mistake, I apologize, and nice catch. Some of the rules seem to move around from Season1 to the rest:]_

**

* * *

**It had been less than twenty-four hours since Gibbs and Jenny had arrived back at NCIS, their stuff left at the quarters in Baltimore.

Jenny sat quietly at her desk, the lights in the building rather dim. It had been raining for a while now, and there was no hope of a sunny day.

A body had been found less than two miles from the Navy Yard an hour ago--a University Student with red hair. She'd been found raped, her throat slit, and with the word 'bitch' carved into her forehead in Spanish.

The message had been clear. Soto was pissed. Gibbs had dragged her back to NCIS without a word and sat her down at her desk, ordering her not to move. He'd disappeared into MTAC, and she hadn't seen him since she'd caught a glimpse of him leaving MTAC.

Jenny sighed and flicked her desk lamp on and off, wincing as she moved her shoulder the wrong way. He'd tried to take her to a hospital on the way back from Baltimore; she'd point blank refused to get out of the car, daring him to physically remove her if it was so important to him. After a three minute shouting match, he'd finally taken her back to NCIS and called Ducky to look at her.

A shadow fell across her desk and a Styrofoam cup appeared in front of her. She looked at it blankly for a moment and looked up at Gibbs.

"Drink," he ordered.

"What is it?" she asked, picking up the cup gingerly and looking for a clue.

"Coffee," He answered, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Jenny set the cup back down and leaned back a little, shaking her head.

"I don't drink coffee," she said.

Complete silence.

"You're fired," he said, deadpan.

She had to look twice to make sure he was kidding. She recovered quickly and raised her eyebrow mildly.

"You can't fire me because I don't drink coffee," she said.

He glared at her in disbelief and snatched the cup off her desk, giving her an almost suspicious look as he retreated to his desk.

"Duck look at your ankle?" he asked, jerking his hair back and sitting down. Jenny shifted and lifted her foot onto her desk, showing him her barefoot wrapped in an ace bandage.

"Sprained," she said. "Do I get to know what's going on?" she asked, slightly irritated.

He'd been running around doing stuff while she'd been sitting here since he'd gone Rapunzel on her and told everyone she couldn't leave. They probably thought she was in trouble.

"Soto took your ass-kicking personally," Gibbs answered gruffly, telling her everything she already knew.

She responded by just glaring angrily at him and dropping her foot to the floor.

"Why are we just sitting here?" she asked, trying to get a rise out of him. He glanced up slowly and gave her a withering look.

"Pacci took Carson down to Baltimore to watch the place," he started, looking at something on his computer, "Morrow and Balboa are tracing a cell the connected to him here, in D.C. and we," he leaned back from the computer and took a drink of his coffee, "are connecting him to the murder we'll get him for."

Jenny watched him silently.

She thought of the dead girl, Carrie Mason, and innocent student who'd happened to resemble Jenny in hair color enough to make an example. Jenny looked down from Gibbs piercing gaze, holding back a shiver. She didn't want him to know how much this had shaken her up. She rolled her neck to the side and flinched at the strain, pressing her lips together even though that, too, hurt.

She was tired, dirty, hadn't gotten a good sleep—any sleep, really—longer than two hours for the past four days.

"Can I go home?" she asked finally, not caring if it sounded weak.

His eyes flashed.

"No," he answered sharply, "you _do_ _not_ leave the building, Jenny."

She sighed irritably and slammed her palm down on her desk.

"I'm not doing anything here; you haven't seen your wife in days, Noemi's probably freaking out…" she snapped, "I at _least_ deserve a hot shower." She muttered.

"Soto is _targeting_ you, Shepard," Gibbs growled, standing up, "do you take that seriously?"

Jenny straightened in her chair and stood, placing her palms on her desk.

"I am capable of protecting myself," she hissed.

"By running off without a gun?" he fired back angrily, coming closer to her. "If you go home, I can't keep track of you, and you can bet the bastard has already found out where you live. I'll be damned if he gets a hold of you," he leaned closer to her face, the muscles around his mouth tight, "you stay _here_."

Jenny tightened her mouth and swallowed, nodding slightly.

His line rang from his desk and after a moment of glaring at her harshly, he spun around and jerked it off the cradle.

"Gibbs," he barked.

* * *

Six hours later and they had nothing.

Jenny stood in the women's restroom splashing cold water on her face in a desperate last-ditch attempt to keep herself awake. She straightened and leaned forward, touching the bruise across the bridge of her nose and frowning at the cut and busted up part of her bottom lip.

Pacci had called with no news; no one had been seen on the street where they'd been earlier. Gibbs had given him the order to look out for the hooker they'd seen and interrogate her if they found her again.

With an agent threatened directly, Morrow was giving them all a lot of leeway to get results. A few panicked hits on the BOLO they had out had come to nothing, and Balboa's investigation of what they thought was Soto's cell in D.C. turned out to be nothing.

Ignoring the pain in her foot as she put weight on it against Ducky's wishes, she left the bathroom, forcing her eyes open. Her irritation with Gibbs had not worn off, only gotten stronger with the time. He, in turn, was slowly going ballistic.

At the end of her rope, she turned the corner of the bullpen and smiled wickedly as she thought of a way to kill two birds with one stone—humble Gibbs a little and keep herself awake all the same. She marched into the bullpen and up to him where he stood talking quietly with Stan beside his desk.

Without warning, she snatched the coffee cup from his hand and closed her eyes as she downed what was left of it, not even noticing the bitter taste.

Stan was staring at her with wide, frightened eyes, looking from her to Gibbs, as she handed it back to her boss, her eyes daring him to reprimand her.

"Thought you didn't drink coffee," he said mildly, taking it and giving her a look she couldn't quite decipher.

"I had a change of heart," she snapped, turning sharply to Stand. "Please tell me you have something," she snarled.

He jumped at her tone and stammered, looking at Gibbs to bail him out. Gibbs just popped the top of his coffee and looked down into it, giving Jenny an you're-not-off-the-hook glare.

"Er…no, well, a false…BOLO hit but other than…"

Jenny just glared at him. Stan trailed off, shrugging slightly.

"I get why you're so snappy, Shepard…I would be too if I'd let a suspect get away—looks like you put up a fight though,"

_WHACK._

"OW! BOSS!"

Gibbs was glaring at Stan like he'd lost his mind. Jenny looked at him a moment longer and turned on her heel, leaving the bullpen without a word to either of them. She passed Balboa in the hall and was halfway to the break room before Gibbs grabbed her arm and stopped her, spinning her around.

"Hey," he said softly, studying her face. "You're not blaming yourself for this?" he asked in a low voice, as if he'd suddenly realized she might.

Jenny didn't answer, trying to shake off his arm, but he didn't allow her to this time.

"I let him get away, and now that girl's dead." She said stonily after a moment.

"Not your fault," he said.

"No?" she laughed sarcastically, "I should've had my SIG!" she snapped.

Gibbs had been an agent long enough to realize when he'd pushed someone to the brink. He'd kept her up too long, stressed her out; people had their limits and they were both ignoring hers.

"I will get him, Jenny," Gibbs said quietly, glaring at her.

"I should have HAD HIM!" she yelled, successfully jerking her arm away this time. She stood opposite him staring him in the face, daring him to say some cliché thing to try and make her feel better.

He didn't. He looked at her until her breathing evened out and she calmed down a little. She turned and leaned back against the wall, placing her hands behind her against it and sliding down, until she sat on the floor with her knees drawn up to her chest.

Gibbs watched her put her forehead in her palm and clench her fist in her knees. Dropping down beside her suddenly, her put his hand behind her neck gently in her hair and pressed his fingers into her skin. He put his mouth next to her ear,

"If you let him do this to you, Jen, the bastard wins," he said in a low voice, taking it from something Franks had told him once.

She turned towards him, her hard green eyes conflicted. She startled at the shortened form of her name, taking a dislike to it instantly because of past association. His words sank in. She didn't know whether to yell at him for calling her _that_ or get back up. The one thing that did _not_ come to mind was to push him away, or make him stop touching her.

"AGENT GIBBS!" the shout came loud and urgent across the entire bullpen and he tore his blue eyes away from her, responding sharply.

"Pacci," came the reply. And she flinched as his hand hit her shoulder roughly when he pulled it off her neck and disappeared into the bullpen to take the phone someone was holding for him.

Jethro Gibbs looked up from the phone as he listened to Pacci's breathless words, watching as Jenny came back in the bullpen and sat down, stoically pulling an incident report file out of their cabinet and taking a pen to it.

"We got him," Pacci's said finally over the phone.

Gibbs' blood pounded in his head and he clenched his fist on his desk.

"Bring him in," he ordered darkly, slamming the phone down.

* * *

Jenny looked up at the sound and met his eyes, knowing instantly what the look in them meant. He came around his desk and walked to the expansive window, looking out into the slowly lightening sky, every muscle in his body tensed with anger.

Jenny stood in the observation room with her arms crossed across her chest. She still wore the ripped blouse, was still covered in dirt, her clothing still just a little stained with blood.

This was it. They had Raul Soto; Pacci had brought him in with a bullet in his left shoulder, alive but in pain. Gibbs had wanted him alive; Morrow had wanted him alive—he had to be; in order for them to find the drug ring he was leading in the US.

The room was silent; the techs had gone home hours ago. She was alone with the recording and sound equipment, staring at an empty interrogation room.

The door in the room she watched banged open and Soto stumbled in, catching himself before he fell against the cold metal table. Gibbs followed him, his face expressionless except for the cold fury in his eyes.

He slammed the door shut, and threw Soto unceremoniously into a chair. He took his own chair and threw it against the wall out of the way.

Gibbs turned a little and gave the barest of nods, his eyes briefly connecting with hers though he couldn't see her.

Nodding back ever so slightly, even though he could not see her either, she went to the equipment around her and slowly but surely shut off all of the recordings and audio devices.

* * *

_Slightly shorter, but necessary._

_Alexa_


	8. Divorce

_A/N: Thanks to aserene! I think we've all been waiting for this..._

* * *

Words could not possibly describe how glad Jenny Shepard was to be home. She was clean, fed, in slightly less pain than yesterday, and relieved of duty for the next _two_ days.

At the moment, she stood in her bedroom with a steaming mug of tea in her hands, wrapped in a short silk bathrobe. The ace bandage was still around her foot tightly, but she had no problem with limping in the privacy of her own home—and the ankle was feeling much better after an hour with ice on it and a few more Advil than necessary.

She stretched her shoulders slightly and padded over to the bed, sitting down and crossing her legs Indian style. She sat the mug on her bedside table with the book she was currently reading and turned to the open cardboard box on her bed.

It was only half full of a jumble of random things, items Harm had left behind. It was all the last of the stuff she'd been meaning to get back to him since he visited a few weeks ago; work had just kept her from gathering it up. She reached for the Hawaiian print shirt at the end of the bed and shook her head nostalgically as she put it in the box, the final item.

Closing it deftly, she leaned back against her headboard and the pillows and moved the book to her lap, lifting her tea off the table.

She felt like it should be harder than this to push Harmon Rabb out of her life. She'd known him for years, he'd been her friend, and for a good while there, her lover. After her father's death though…everything had changed.

Things had probably started to unravel before then; she'd just been too comfortable to realize he'd never be quite right for her. He'd realized they were over quickly, and took it standing up. She had the ring he'd given her locked away in a jewelry box; he'd refused to take it back.

He'd be by to pick up the box later, probably stop in unannounced and visit for a while. She knew it would be the last time she'd let herself see him for a long time; he was part of a life she didn't want to cling to anymore.

NCIS was her life now. She'd known it would be since the day her father had died. It was the only way she'd find the closure and the answers she needed—and it helped that, in the meantime, she'd fallen in love with the job.

It was like being on an adrenaline high all the time, and not just because of the fast-paced cases and chasing down suspects. Working with Gibbs was like being in the military, yet she couldn't have asked for better in a partner.

Not once had he treated her like she was any less capable because she was a female. Sure, he did things that were chauvinistic sometimes—like not letting her drive or making her stay behind while he did the heavy stuff—but she got the impression he did it unconsciously, not deliberately.

He'd given her a ride home after an hour of interrogating Soto, and all but ordered her not to come to work for the next two days. They needed a break, she couldn't say she didn't want one, but something told her _he_ was at the office right now.

Her eyes glazed over a little as she drank her tea, staring quietly at nothing.

Gibbs had called her 'Jen' at least five times since the first time, and she swore he was doing it without noticing. Her father had always called her Jen; her mother Jennifer. Everyone else called her Jenny, and that had never been negotiable.

The only reason the nickname 'Jen' had become so taboo was because the Colonel was dead, and she couldn't stand the reminder.

She was alternately distracted by Gibbs' offhanded use of the nickname and the way he'd spoken to her when she'd nearly lost it at Headquarters; touching her neck and hair soothingly. It was even gentler than the way he'd handled her in the alley in Baltimore.

Jenny shook her head and looked down into the dregs of her tea, scowling mildly at herself. She didn't know where the hell these thoughts were going, but she refused to follow them. She absolutely refused to admit she _liked_ it when Gibbs touched her, almost as much as she liked fighting with him.

She refused to admit she was attracted to him in any way, form, or fashion.

* * *

Diane was not home when he got there, and for that he thanked whatever god was listening.

In fact, it didn't take him long to notice she probably hadn't been home much at all since he last seen her; there were no dishes in the sink, no clothes in the laundry room, the bed was sort of as messy as he'd left it, possibly a little neater.

He honestly didn't worry about it. She'd threatened to leave at least a thousand times now. If she'd actually done it, well, he'd live with it.

The basement was cool and comforting, as usual, but the bourbon in the Mason jar behind him was more so. After an ordeal like the one they'd just gone through, there was nothing better than boat sanding and bourbon—lots of it.

Raul Soto was in the hands of the American authorities, and he wasn't going back to Colombia for a long time. Gibbs had managed to get enough slips out of the man to pinpoint where his cell was, and they'd busted that too.

It was grimly satisfying to catch the bastard, even if Franks hadn't been around to share in the victory.

It had probably been more worth it to see Jenny unleash her anger on the men in Soto's cell, anyway.

Heels clicked on the tile upstairs and he started, for a moment thinking it was his junior agent coming down the stairs. He glanced upwards and groaned inwardly.

He wasn't that lucky.

"Well, look who's decided to come home," Diane said sardonically, stopping on the small landing and leaning against the rail. "My husband—it is you, right? I'd forgotten what you looked like."

He didn't answer her. He dropped the sanding block in his hand and leaned against the frame of the boat, turning to look at her.

"Are you going to say anything, Jethro?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Hi, Diane," he said deliberately. She made a noise in her throat and took the last few steps to the basement floor, dropping her coat on a chair as she walked forward.

"You're _so_ good with words, honey," she snapped, "I haven't seen you in almost a week and that's all I get?"

He responded, again, with only silence, worn thin with the constant bickering. She nagged, he snapped back. He avoided her, she called constantly. They were at opposite ends of the spectrum and didn't understand a damn thing about the other.

"I've been working, Diane," he said stiffly.

"Always _working_. You could have called, dammit. Anyone else would have called. Oh, but not you,"

"Didn't have anything to say," he interrupted sharply.

Her brown eyes flashed and he saw the hurt in them before she hid it away. He sighed and turned away, looking straight ahead. He pushed himself off the boat and took the Mason jar off the workbench, sitting on a stool and facing her.

Their marriage was over. It had been for a long time it was just a matter of who said the words first.

He couldn't stand her in the house anymore, not in the place where so many painful memories were still fresh. She had never been what he was looking for.

"You look at me like I'm someone else," she hissed, coming forward, "When did everything change, Jethro, when? When did you start hating me like this?" she demanded.

"I don't hate you, Diane," he said quietly.

"But you sure as hell don't love me," was her cold comeback.

He didn't have an answer for her there. Her heels clicked as she shifted and he bitterly wished it had been Jenny coming down the stairs instead of her, even though there was no viable reason for Jenny to be anywhere near his house.

"It's that look," Diane interrupted quietly. He blinked and focused on her.

Her eyes were guarded and steely.

"You want to go, Diane? I won't stop you," he said hoarsely.

She blinked at him, looking taken aback, and recovered quickly, her eyes narrowing again.

"You arrogant son of a bitch," she cursed, her voice shaking just slightly. "You think I won't?"

He didn't give a damn if she did.

"I am never going to be _her_," Diane said suddenly, viciously, "I thought I could make it work, I thought you could get past that—even though you never told me about _them_—didn't think it was worth mentioning that you had a wife, a _daughter_!"

"Diane," he said coldly, "Leave Shannon and Kelly out of this."

"How can I, Jethro?" she shouted violently. "They're the reason for '_this'_!" she spat, her hand falling to her hip. "I don't know why you ever married me, Jethro, but I can't do this. I can't take these…lonely nights, long days, never seeing you—and when I do, only to fight. You don't trust me, you may never have loved me, and I won't stick around and let you hurt me!"

She stopped yelling briefly and looked at him, waiting, waiting for _something_.

He glared. His part of the argument ended when she pulled Shannon and Kelly into it. He was through with it all.

"Say _something_, Jethro!" she yelled, throwing her hands up. "Dammit, _anything_!"

She turned her head to the side and put her hand to her face, stopping briefly. He recognized the signs of her holding back tears and he still had nothing to say.

She turned back on him, and said the words. Harsh, cold, and final.

"I want a divorce."

* * *

_I know, short again. Had to get rid of Diane, thought._

_Alexa_


	9. Hostage

_A/N: Thanks to aserene! This chapter's a bit longer._

**

* * *

**

Jenny Shepard stood at the crime scene, her camera held limply in gloved hands for the moment. She looked at the body of Penny Morand with glassy eyes, from the pistol clutched in the woman's hand to the bloody wound on her temple.

"Shepard," Gibbs barked, coming up behind her without warning. She startled and nearly dropped the camera, wrenching her eyes away from Penny Morand to face her boss. He glared at her for a moment and took the camera from her.

"You gonna do your job?" he asked gruffly, bending over the body and looking closer. He sat the camera down on a table and took a drink of coffee.

"I've already taken the pictures we need," Jenny said quietly, narrowing her eyes.

They'd been at the crime scene only ten minutes, and were currently waiting for Ducky and Fiona to arrive.

Penny Morand had been found by a next door neighbor who'd come to borrow sugar. The woman had discovered her sprawled on the couch, a pistol clutched in her hand. A navy ID had been found on her and NCIS had been called.

"Hey!"

Gibbs shouted at her again and she snapped to attention.

"Prints?" he demanded. Jenny shook her head, turning to grab for her bag.

"Sorry," she muttered, getting out the brushes.

"Don't apologize, Shepard," he snapped.

She threw a look at his back. He'd been ten times as angry as usual this week. She thought it had something to do with the ridiculous amount of paperwork they'd been doing in the absence of a case, but she couldn't be sure.

She thought he'd be _glad_ to be out of the office doing something hands on.

Jenny crouched down next to Penny Morand's hand and started to dust the pistol, removing it with care from the woman's hand.

"Did her neighbor say anything interesting?" she asked into the silence.

"Didn't know her well. She's only lived here a month," Gibbs paused, "She's not active military, either."

"How can you tell?" Jenny asked, furrowing her eyebrows. A few prints appeared on the gun and she reached for an evidence bag.

"I can tell," he answered cryptically. She rolled her eyes. "Neighbor said she seemed happy enough, no reason to kill herself."

"Maybe she didn't," muttered Jenny.

Gibbs looked down at her bent head, hearing he bitterness in her voice.

"Hello, hello. What have we here?" Ducky's voice floated into the room, followed by Fiona's upbeat humming.

"Suicide," Gibbs grunted.

"Or murder," Jenny said.

"Odd," Ducky muttered, maneuvering past Jenny and taking a closer look at their dead woman's head.

They didn't get to hear what he found odd though, as they were prevented by a commotion outside the house. Gibbs left the room quickly, and Jenny stood and followed, confidently leaving the body with Ducky and Fiona.

Local LEO's were holding a man back behind the yellow tape, and he was struggling with them.

"Let me past, I live here—come on, my wife's in there!" he spotted Gibbs coming out of the house and jumped forward, shaking one of the officers off and ducking under the tape before they could stop him.

"Sir, what's going on? Is my wife okay? Is Penny hurt?" he asked urgently. Jenny took in the man's clipped haircut and uniform and noted that he was definitely active duty if the wife was not.

Gibbs held up a hand to wave off the local LEOs and beckoned the man forward slowly.

"Who are you?" he asked quietly.

"Corporal Jonathan Morand, sir. Penny—"

"Corporal," Gibbs interrupted.

Jenny pressed her lips together and thought of the body in the living room. Gibbs' voice lowered to where she could no longer hear him. She watched the Corporal's face closely; his eyes widened and then shut, he shook his head and pushed past Gibbs roughly.

"No, Penny…Penny—"

He dodged by Jenny before she could stop him and ran into the living room, leaning against the wall when he saw his wife on the couch. Jenny came in beside him, and as Ducky realized what was happening, he stood and tried to hide the body a little.

"No," the Corporal said roughly, "_No_," he shook his head violently and turned to Jenny. "Penny wouldn't do this. She'd never kill herself—someone did this. Someone hurt her!" he yelled.

Jenny didn't say a word.

Gibbs entered the house with one of the other officers.

"Corporal," he said coolly, "come into the next room." He said.

Jenny watched as Gibbs let the officer with him lead Jonathan Morand into the room next to theirs. She turned to Gibbs.

"Maybe she was murdered," Jenny said, when Gibbs started forward. He looked at her and studied her face.

"They never want to believe someone they love is unhappy enough to do this," he answered, starting past her. She stepped in his way and put a hand on his chest.

"Maybe she _wasn't_," Jenny insisted sharply. "There are children's toys on the floor; she's close with kids, maybe has one. Her house is warm, husband seems to love her—"

"You got a personal reason you don't want this to be suicide?" Gibbs interrupted sharply, glaring at her.

Jenny swallowed hard and glanced back at Penny Morand. Her father's face flashed before her eyes, his head bent forward on the study desk, pistol in his hand.

"I'm just saying," she started stiffly, "that we shouldn't—"

Another commotion stopped her from going on as the Corporal re-appeared, looking pale.

"Do you have Daisy? Where's Daisy?" he asked, grabbing Gibbs' shoulder.

Gibbs studied the man for a moment.

"Daisy…?" he asked.

"Daisy! Daisy, my little girl! Where's my _daughter_?" the man cried desperately.

Immediately, Gibbs turned to Jenny.

"Amber alert, now. Daisy Morand," he ordered sharply. Jenny pulled her phone from her pocket quickly, stepping away to call the necessary authorities.

"Someone's got Daisy?" the Corporal asked, his voice scared. Jenny stepped further away, flinching at the tortured sound of the man's voice. She started talking rapidly to the person who'd answered her call.

"We'll find her," she heard Gibbs swear.

* * *

Jenny marched down the hall to Forensics with a pinched look on her face, her heels clicking hard and fast on the floor.

Ducky's report had found severe bruising on Penny Morand's knuckles and hand, suggesting someone had squeezed her hand tightly over the gun. Ducky also suggested it may be plausible to believe it wasn't suicide as females very rarely shot themselves in the head to end their lives.

Reluctantly, Gibbs had conceded to Jenny that they were looking at murder, especially after she'd found barely visible footprints in the carpet of the Morand's living room that were clearly work boots.

The reason she was on the warpath now was sitting in interrogation with Gibbs.

Jonathan Morand was being held for questioning for the murder of his wife, and kidnapping of his child. Gibbs had found love letters locked away in the wife's bureau that were not from her husband, suggesting an affair. Ducky's time of death had coincided with the time Corporal Morand had left his home to go to the grocery store, and Harper's preliminary reports had shown a few clear fingerprints of Morand's on the gun.

Gibbs was convinced. Jenny refused to believe he did it. She watched Gibbs interrogate the Corporal for all of ten minutes, the whole time watching the near-tears man demand they go look for his daughter.

Jenny had already gone behind his back and manipulated Harper into looking closer and running tests again. Gibbs had already yelled at her in the middle of the bullpen numerous times. He thought she was being too sensitive, feminine.

She wasn't going to take that lying down.

"You better have something, _Harper_," she growled, barging into his lab unceremoniously. He looked up from his microscope with an annoyed look, and changed his face a little when he saw her.

"Agent Shepard, of course," he muttered, turning to a nearby table. He lifted the evidence bag with Penny Morand's pistol in it up. "On the trigger. One smeared fingerprint not belonging to husband or wife. And, after you demanded I check again…I pulled out the magazine and checked the bullets. Completely different person loaded this gun; I'd wager it wasn't loaded when whoever shot it got a hold of it."

Harper handed out his written file and analysis to Jenny. He turned to his computer and hit a few buttons.

"I got an eight point match on a civilian by the name of Justin Conrad, thirty-five. He's a resident of North Dakota, though, so it's probably—"

"The Morand's just moved from North Dakota," Jenny muttered harshly, slamming shut the report. "Could someone be framing Corporal Morand?" she demanded.

"Y-yes," stammered Harper, quailing under her gaze.

"Good work, John," she said, smiling wryly at him and turning to leave. He looked relieved she was gone.

Jenny jammed her finger into the elevator button violently, determined to stop Gibbs before he did anymore damage. He said she was too emotionally involved, and she could say the same for him. There was something he was taking out on everyone around him; she didn't know what it was but she'd be damned if she'd let him destroy Corporal Morand's life because of his irritation.

She stepped off the elevator at the correct floor and stalked down the hall to interrogation, where she heard the Corporal shout his innocence violently from the inside. Without hesitating, she threw open the door, ignoring the bang it made against the inside. Corporal Morand jumped a mile.

"AGENT SHEPARD!" Gibbs bellowed at the sight of her, standing up with his hands on the table.

"He didn't do it," she declared coldly, slapping the file down on the table.

"Is there anything on Daisy? _Anything_?" Jonathan cried, pleading to Jenny. She started to speak when Gibbs snatched the file off the table and grabbed her arm, jerking her out into the hall and dragging the interrogation room door shut with a bang.

"Never, _ever_ interrupt an interrogation." He snarled at her, his face too close to hers. "Rule twenty-two. Learn it," he snapped, letting go of her arm.

"To hell with your damn rules," Jenny snapped, as Gibbs started to turn back to the room. HE turned around slowly and glared at her, eyes steely. "Corporal Morand didn't _do_ it." She repeated.

"You think because he's crying and yelling about this girl and how much he loves his wife he's innocent? I've heard it all before, Shepard, and you are still a probie no matter how good you think you are," He growled harshly.

"Read the report," she said coldly, glaring back at him. "It has nothing to do with how good I am, it's Harper's facts. Or don't you trust cold, hard, evidence?" she asked sardonically.

Gibbs nearly ripped the folder tearing it open, and his jaw tightened as he read the words.

He swore.

"How did that incompetent bastard miss this?" he demanded, throwing the file at Jenny roughly. He jerked the door to interrogation open again.

"Corporal," he barked. Jenny at least gave him credit for making it sound a little less accusatory.

"Come with me," Gibbs said. Jonathan Morand followed them out of interrogation. Gibbs held open the door to the conference room and let him inside, sitting down with him. Jenny stood by the door, the file in her hands.

"Find my daughter," Corporal Morand demanded, his eyes wild.

"We will," Gibbs said, leaning forward. He held out his hand for the file and Jenny gave it to him. He dropped it open on the table and tapped the photo inside.

"You insisted your wife wasn't having an affair. Love letters are signed 'Justin', we may have connected this man to the crime scene. You gonna start talking?" Gibbs asked slowly.

Corporal Jonathan Morand shook his head, turning his face away from the picture.

"Penny didn't have a lover," he said, looking back at the photo of Justin Conrad. "She had a _stalker_," he looked up at Gibbs with angry, scared eyes. "And now that bastard's got my little girl!"

* * *

Jenny stared at the picture of the little girl tacked up with all the other evidence and photos on their corkboard in the bullpen. Daisy Morand smiled back at her with bright blue eyes and light brown hair, holding a bunch of flowers in her hand. She was four years old.

"False lead," Gibbs said gruffly, walking around the corner. Jenny swore he had his seventh cup of coffee in an hour.

"Metro doesn't have her?" she asked. He'd been down to the police station to follow up on a sighting.

"Girl looked like her. Her mother flipped when the cops tried to take her," Gibbs answered, sitting down and picking up his desk phone. "Duck? Send Fiona up." He said, putting the phone back down and standing up.

"It's been twenty-eight hours, Gibbs," Jenny started worriedly.

"I know that, Shepard," he said harshly. She quieted instantly. He was channeling everything into finding Daisy, everyone was. The agents who didn't have cases themselves where tracking leads on where the girl might be, while Gibbs and Jenny handled the Corporal and tracking down Justin Conrad.

"What've you got?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know why it was so hard to get the Corporal to talk," Jenny started, turning to face Gibbs.

"He's torturing himself for not being able to protect his family," Gibbs said, looking back to the girl's picture. He remained silent, and Jenny went on slowly.

"Justin Conrad was Penny's boyfriend before she married Jonathan. He got protective and clingy; she got out. He was a heavy heroine user, in and out of rehab. It seems he re-appeared in her life right after Daisy was born, claiming she was his baby. He took them to court, they proved it impossible, and he disappeared again. He showed back up on the grid when Daisy was two, making the same claim, saying she 'looked more like him'."

Jenny paused. Gibbs didn't say anything, so she continued.

"He started writing the love letters, harmless at first, after Penny took out a restraining order. Sent Daisy a few gifts that Jonathan burned. The threats started coming a while after. He said he'd take Daisy, would make sure Jonathan hurt for stealing his love, etc. They thought he was crazy. But Conrad's the reason they relocated, didn't tell their family where they were going."

Gibbs continued not saying anything as Jenny finished, focused on the picture of Daisy on the screen.

"You talked to the psychiatrist about this?" he asked.

Jenny nodded.

"She says it's unlikely that Conrad will kill Daisy, he's more likely to use her as bait. He wanted to frame Corporal Morand to hurt him, so he knew Conrad had his daughter. It's probably he knows that didn't work. She seems to think Conrad will try to use Daisy to hurt Morand, but he would do it in front of him."

"That's not gonna happen," Gibbs muttered, his eyes shifting to the other things.

"Another thing," Jenny said softly after a moment. She pointed to one of the enlarged crime scene photos, "look. Three marks in the carpet we ignored…it looks like something might have been there. Maybe a—"

"Video camera?"

Gibbs and Jenny turned at the sound of Stan's voice behind them. He had Jonathan Morand with him, looking white as a ghost and defeated.

"Corporal just got an e-mail," he said grimly.

Jenny immediately headed for her computer, waking it up.

"I can access your account from here," she said, waiting for him to give information. He complied quickly, his voice unsteady.

Jenny opened the file and her heart sped up as she read the emboldened words.

**TURN ON CHANNEL SIX.**

She looked up and Gibbs was already on it, flipping the TV on without a word and finding the specified channel. The blonde newscaster had just interrupted whatever program was on, a grim look on her face.

"…five minutes ago. A tape was found outside out studio with the missing girls name on it. Why it was left here, we're not sure, but here is what we've found on it…"

The screen changed and a crude picture came up, kind of fuzzy, and shaky. They heard the muffled whimpering of a young girl, and the camera was pointed on Penny Morand, still alive, sitting on her living room couch.

"Don't," she whispered.

"I want you to kill yourself," rasped an unsteady voice. The camera shook. "Or I am going to kill her,"

Penny screamed and shook her head, covering her ears.

"Hush, hush, love. You don't want Daisy's pretty throat cut, do you? Take the gun."

Penny snatched the pistol off the table. She looked at it.

"Let her go, please, let her go and I'll do it—just let her go!" she pleaded, looking off to the right.

Jenny stepped back from the screen, reaching out to put an arm on Corporal Morand's shoulder. He stared like he saw nothing.

The video camper rocked violently and Justin Conrad appeared in front of it, Daisy Morand held tightly under one arm. Her mouth was clearly gagged. Conrad, a glove on his hand, wrenched Penny's hand up and tightened his hand around hers, pressing the gun to her temple.

"NOT IN FRONT OF HER!" screamed Penny, struggling.

"Pull the trigger, baby," Conrad said loudly, "If I can't have you no one can."

He let go of Penny's wrist and held up Daisy in front of him, putting his hand to the little girl's throat. Penny screamed and shook her head, the gun still pressed against it.

"I promise I won't kill her, dear. I won't hurt my own child."

"Turn it off," Jenny said sharply, looking at Gibbs. He ignored her, watching it. Just as sickly hypnotized as she rest of them.

"DO IT NOW!"

The little girl screamed loudly and a gunshot was heard just as the tape fuzzed out, making it impossible to see. Jenny gasped, her throat dry and hoarse.

Silence filled the bullpen, except for Corporal Morand's harsh breathing. His head dropped forward and he started sobbing.

"Find that bastard," Gibbs said in a deadly voice, turning the television off mechanically. No one moved.

"FIND HIM!" he roared, and Stan jumped, running to the desk his sometimes used quickly.

Jenny looked at Gibbs helplessly over Corporal Morand's shoulder, her head swimming.

She wasn't sure if Penny or Conrad had pulled the trigger. If it was suicide to save her daughter, or just cold murder.

Either way, it hit her. Hard.

Gibbs phone rang, startling them all, and he answered it roughly.

"Gibbs," he barked in a haggard voice, his eyes never leaving Jenny and the Corporal. His face tightened suddenly and he waved at Stan madly, hitting speaker.

The same voice on the video came over the phone. Stan started a trace as quickly and silently as possible.

"NCIS," the voice said, "you should have just arrested Mr. Morand for his wife's murder. We wouldn't be in this position if you had," it said, laughing a little. "He just couldn't stand that she loved me more…that sweet little Daisy was my child…guess he'll never see her again,"

Click.

Gibbs snatched at the phone, yelling into it, but the caller had hung up.

"Burly," he shouted. Stan shook his head. The call hadn't been long enough.

"DAMMIT!" Gibbs cursed, throwing the phone into its cradle violently.

"Wait," Jenny muttered, "Wait. Did you hear the clock? The clock in the background?" she asked. Gibbs just looked at her like she'd lost her mind. She, on the other hand, looked up at the wall. It was exactly eleven o'clock, which meant clocks with chimes would be chiming. "Birds," Jenny muttered.

"What?" snapped Gibbs, glaring at her.

"BIRDS!" Jenny snapped, turning to Corporal Morand and shaking him. "Do you have one of those clocks that chime with bird songs? Corporal!" she demanded sharply.

"_What_—yes, we…oh my god," he broke off, looking up at them. "In our living room!" he gasped.

"LET'S GO!" Gibbs bellowed.

* * *

The house was dark when they entered, as quietly as possible. Stan took the back, Jenny and Gibbs the front. Pacci stayed at the front door, watching their backs, and Agent Langer held Jonathan Morand back in the car, preventing him from ringing the whole thing.

The living room lights flicked on as Jenny moved past the entrance way, taking the opposite side as Gibbs, her stance offensive, gun out.

"I assumed the call would be traced," Justin Conrad said, smiling at them. He was sitting on the table in the middle of the room, drinking a beer.

They didn't bother to correct him on hoe they'd found his hiding place.

Daisy sat on the floor in front of him, a gag in her mouth, her face dirty, her lip cut. Her hair was tangled, and her blue eyes were red from crying, wide and frightened.

Ignoring Conrad, Gibbs looked to the little girl.

"You okay, Daisy?" he asked gently.

"Don't talk to my daughter!" Conrad snapped viciously, glaring at Gibbs.

"She's not your daughter, Conrad," Gibbs said slowly.

"That lying bitch…she is! She _is_," Conrad insisted madly.

"What do you think you'll gain by this?" Gibbs asked, in the same slow, deliberate voice.

Behind his back, Jenny watched him signal to Pacci. Pacci raised his wrist to his lips and muttered something, telling Burly he could enter the house.

"I get to raise my girl! See her, love her! Too bad Penny had to die—but she's better off! If I can't have her…she's better off in death! I want that bastard _Corporal_ to suffer for taking the love of my life—"

"You won't walk out of this alive," Gibbs interrupted coolly.

Slowly, Conrad smiled and lifted Daisy off the floor into his arms. She kicked and struggled violently as he stood up, holding her securely in front of him. He pulled a gun from behind his back, pointing it at Gibbs.

"Go ahead," he said, "shoot."

Jenny swallowed, her hands shaking. She looked to Gibbs; he was as calm and collected as ever. She tightened her grip on her SIG and tried to steady her breathing, focusing on Daisy's little face. If Stan could get in behind Conrad and shoot him…

Conrad shifted suddenly, diagonal to them, watching both them and the other living room entrance. He smiled again.

"You should walk softer," he said. Jenny's eyes snapped to Stan. He raised his gun and held it on Conrad, but he was kidding himself.

None of them had a shot that wouldn't risk hitting Daisy.

Gibbs tucked his gun away and stepped forward, lifting his arms slightly.

Jenny started to say his name but clamped her mouth shut at the look he shot her from the corner of his eyes. She cursed inwardly. What the hell was he doing?

"You don't wanna do this, Justin," Gibbs said, advancing. "You don't want to live with her blood on your hands."

"I don't want to live without Penny!" yelled Conrad, his gun shaking slightly. Jenny sifted into the room, trying to see around Gibbs.

"Why'd you kill her, Conrad/" she asked coldly, making sure he could see her.

"She killed herself!" he spat.

"You forced her hand!" Jenny snapped back, her voice shaking. "She did it to save her daughter! She'd rather be dead than with you!"

"Shepard," Gibbs said quietly and harshly.

Jenny quieted, swallowing and narrowing her eyes at the man in front of her.

"NO!" Conrad roared. "She'd rather die than admit to that Corporal she loves me!"

"Justin, let's talk about Penny," Stan said suddenly, soothingly. Jenny was surprised at his way of negotiating, but it seemed to distract Conrad. "Let's talk."

"I want you to LEAVE!" roared Conrad after a moment. "LET ME HAVE DAISY AND GO! Arrest Corporal Morand, HE MURDERED PENNY! HE MADE ME DO IT!"

Conrad's eyes went wild and he looked from Stan to Jenny to Gibbs, his eyes twitching.

In the blink of an eye, Daisy kicked suddenly and his arm slipped; she dropped in his arms before he could catch her, and his gun hand dropped a little as well. Stan fired his gun just as Conrad lunged forward towards Gibbs, his gun out; Stan missed.

Jenny's heart nearly stopped as Conrad's gun hit Gibbs in the arm. The man stumbled into Gibbs, knocking him back. Gibbs, caught off guard, couldn't access his gun. Conrad straightened, turned his gun on Gibbs.

"SHEPARD," Gibbs barked, seeing the same shot she did.

She could get a bullet past Gibbs' ear at the man's head, without hitting Daisy. She might hit Gibbs, though, or Conrad might fire on him.

Jenny hesitated, and the gun turned rapidly towards Daisy's head.

"JENNY, GOD DAMMIT!"

_BANG_.

* * *

_I would say sorry for the cliffhanger...but it amuses me._

_Alexa_


	10. Demons

_A/N: Thanks to aserene!_

**

* * *

**The moment Justin Conrad went down, Pacci and Stan rushed the room, immediately pulling Daisy away from her dead captor and un-gagging her.

Gibbs shoved Conrad's body off of him and turned violently on Jenny, grabbing the gun in her shaking hand and jerking it forward, pulling her with it. He pried it out of her hands and held her wrist tightly, starting her down with livid eyes.

"What the _hell_ were you doing, Shepard?" he barked. "Your hesitation nearly cost that girl her _life_,"

Jenny flinched, unable to work her vocal cords. She'd fired desperately just before Conrad had had a chance to shoot at Daisy, right as Gibbs had cursed at her across the room. In one heart-stopping moment when Gibbs went down under Conrad's body, she thought she'd hit him.

Gibbs shook her.

"If you doubt your aim that much, you don't deserve to be in the field," he yelled.

She was still in too much shock to be ashamed that he was lashing her in front of their colleagues. He breath nearly stopped at his threat, and she winced again as he tightened his grip on her arm, trying to pull away. He held her tight.

"If I ever see you do that again—_ever_—if you ever hesitate to shoot because you think you'll hit an agent, if you risk a victim's life again in a moment of doubt—you _cannot_ do that Shepard! You _can't_ doubt yourself,"

She shrank back again from the violence of his tangent. This wasn't just professional disapproval—there was something deeper bothering him. Something personal about the girl.

"You hesitate again, and I'll have you badge," he snarled, glaring at her.

Jenny swallowed, recovering her senses slightly. She straightened up a little.

"Answer me," he demanded coldly.

"I understand," she said hoarsely.

He released her roughly, dropping her arm at her side, taking her gun with him as he turned towards Pacci and Stan. Stan had hit all the lights; Pacci was kneeling by Daisy as he untied her and tried to calm her crying.

"Someone get Morand," Stan said briefly, picking up Conrad's dropped gun.

Jenny stepped carefully into the room. Pacci looked up from Daisy as Gibbs came closer and stood, wiping his hands slightly on his jeans. He for once didn't have a light comment for her like he usually did after one of Gibbs' lectures. He started past her towards the front door and touched her shoulder as he past, nodding slightly to her.

"Daisy? My name is Jethro. Do you want to see you dad?" he asked in a very different tone than Jenny had ever heard him use.

The little girly sniffled and nodded her head, looking very small.

Gibbs reached out and smoothed down her tangled hair. He held out his arms gently and picked her up, resting his hand lightly on the back of her head as he turned around to follow Pacci. Daisy buried her head in his shoulder and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

Stan turned away with a grim look, dialing Ducky on his cell phone to come for the body.

Jenny moved out of the way as Gibbs passed her with Daisy. She met his eyes and looked away quickly. She felt like everything was moving in slow motion around her while she just watched. Everything had happened so fast, she'd almost cost Daisy her life…her slug was imbedded in the side of Conrad's head.

Her vision swam and she blinked, shaking her head and following Gibbs silently towards the porch. It was too bright outside, the afternoon too warm, for what they'd just gone through. She blinked in the sun, barely making out Agent Langer with the car. Jonathan Morand stood with him.

Morand looked up as Gibbs came out of the house and stood still as a post for a moment, before he broke into a run across the street. Daisy looked up at the sound of her name.

"Daddy," she whimpered, looking around from Gibbs' shoulders.

Morand reached them in seconds, holding out his arms. Daisy twisted and reached for him, starting to cry all over again.

"Daisy, baby," he breathed, kissing her head and her cheeks, "Oh I thought I'd never see you…I love you, baby," he put his head into the little' girls hear for a moment, and when he looked up he was smiling at Gibbs through tears.

Jenny put a hand to her mouth, breathing in shakily.

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Corporal Morand said, "I've been so…I can't live without her…I—"

"I know," Gibbs interrupted quietly, touching Daisy's hair again gently. "Take care of her, Corporal." He said quietly, turning away.

Jonathan Morand wrapped himself up in his daughter as Gibbs walked away. He stopped and said something to Pacci, who started towards Langer.

He looked up and Jenny caught his eyes. She thought he looked sad; his face so tired and blank. She dropped her hand from her mouth and hugged herself, rubbing her arm slightly, and looked away from him.

She'd almost failed tonight. She closed her eyes, unable to think of what would have happened if she hadn't forced herself to make that shot.

* * *

Jenny walked back into the bullpen from the Director's office. Gibbs had left her to brief him while he closed things up with Corporal Morand and his daughter.

As she walked over to the filing cabinet to fish out a blank incident report, Gibbs materialized out of nowhere next to her. She stood looking at him silently over the open drawer when he lifted his hand and beckoned her forward with a finger.

"With me," he said neutrally. She shut the drawer forcefully and followed him without a word. He led her to the elevator and pressed the down button, standing silently next to her as they waited for it to open.

She stared straight ahead when they stepped in, still half-afraid of the look she'd get from him if she met his eyes.

He flicked a switch on the elevator and the lights went off as the elevator stopped abruptly.

Well. That was unexpected.

After a moment, he turned towards her, and waited. She turned to face him reluctantly.

"That was your first kill," he said in that same voice. She still refused to look at him.

"I'm fine," she said honestly. She hadn't thought about it. Didn't want to. She'd saved a life when she'd taken Conrad's. It didn't faze her.

He looked at her quietly a moment.

"I've seen you shoot, Jenny," he started quietly; "you're a _damn_ good marksman." He paused here, as if he was still expecting her to say something. She remained silent, glaring at the collar of his jacket. There were still splotches of blood there from Daisy's lip and Conrad's head.

"Why did you hesitate?" he asked.

Jenny looked up slowly and finally met his eyes for a short moment.

"What do you want me to say?" she asked, barely moving her lips. "I'm a probie. I didn't think I could do it."

He shook his head slowly.

"No," he said "You're better than that. You know you're good. Why did you hesitate?" he repeated.

She glared at him this time, the scene flashing through her memory before she could focus on anything too closely; Gibbs yelling, Conrad falling, turning the gun on Daisy, her pulling the trigger.

"I want an answer, Jen," he prompted, a little less calmly this time.

"Why do you call me that?" she asked instead, narrowing her eyes at him. "I hate it."

It was only half a lie. It was a sharp remind her of her father she didn't want to hear and yet, at the same time, when he said it...

"I like it," he responded, after a shrug and –she swore—the barest hint of a smirk.

She glared at him a second longer and swallowed, turning back to face the elevator doors. She reached for the emergency switch and he reached across her, grabbing her hand.

She jerked her head around to him, about to give him a piece of her mind. She stopped and leaned back at his proximity to her. She felt like he was looking into her head with those piercing eyes, and against her will, found herself answering his damned question.

"I thought I might hit you," she capitulated through gritted teeth.

He let go of her arm and leaned back a little. He didn't react at all at her confession, just studied her silently for what seemed, to her, like a freaking hour.

"You have to be prepared to take that shot," he said grimly, "to take that risk. Do you understand?"

It was different than what she expected. She expected him to berate her for being weak, for doubting herself, something…_other_ than what he'd said.

"Okay," she said softly, nodding.

He reached forward across her and flicked the switch, turning the lights and the elevator back on. She caught her breath as his arm drew back across her shoulders, his fingers brushing against his neck. He didn't say another word, and let her off the elevator first in Autopsy.

Ducky was just locking a body in one of the compartments when they entered through the sliding doors.

"Jethro, Jenny," he greeted tiredly, smiling sadly. "It has not been a pleasant day."

He looked at both of them without saying anything.

"I'm very glad that man got his little girl back," he said finally, "I cannot imagine losing a child."

Gibbs cleared his throat softly and put his hand behind Jenny's shoulders, drawing her forward.

"Tea," he said gruffly. "And do whatever you do," he added, nodding at his old friend.

Ducky looked at Gibbs, a question forming on his lips, but the marine was gone in seconds.

"The case got to him," Ducky mused curiously, looking back to Jenny.

"It got to all of us," she said hoarsely, walking towards Ducky.

She was tired, blaming herself, and angry. And on top of all that she was _confused_.

* * *

Jethro Gibbs finally didn't have a reason to dread going home. He didn't have to draw out his work or find some way to keep himself at NCIS—not since Diane had all but moved out. Her things were still in the house, but she wasn't. He couldn't exactly say he missed her.

And _still_ he couldn't bring himself to go home, not tonight. Not after the Morand Case. He couldn't go home to an empty house and let himself think about the look on Corporal Morand's face when he'd heard about his wife, the look he'd gotten when he thought he'd never see his daughter again, and then, finally, the look he'd gotten when he'd gotten his little girl back.

He knew that pain. What he _didn't_ know was that happiness, that relief, of knowing your child was safe again.

He rested his forehead in his palm as he finished his notes for Jenny's training file, looking at the words without seeing them. He'd kill for a generous shot of bourbon. There were a few things he'd kill for right now.

He looked up at Jenny, working on her report across the bullpen. She hadn't shown any sign of leaving since she'd come up from her tea with Ducky, and it was nearly twenty-one hundred. As out of character as it was, he vaguely wondered what demons were keeping her from her nice townhouse.

He wasn't blind; he'd noticed how she'd reacted when they'd been called to investigate the suicide. She firmly refused to accept it was self-harm, immediately insisting they should consider murder above all else. It indicated she had a sensitive spot about suicide.

This case had worn them both thin. He'd nearly killed her when she barged into his interrogation; the fact that she'd been right had been the only thing to restrain him. He regretted riding Corporal Morand so hard; he'd been distracted. On the edge already because of the sudden demands Diane was making.

The woman had gone _psycho_.

He looked over Shepard's file again and shut it, running his hand over the paper absently. He leaned back and looked at her, bent over her paper still.

"Go home, Jenny."

She looked up at him momentarily and then back down, blowing him off quickly.

"The report can wait," he pushed, "go rest."

She looked back up and slammed her pen down, agitated.

"Take your own advice, _Jethro_," she snapped, throwing a nasty glare at him.

She rarely called him by his first name. Any other agent wouldn't dare, wouldn't get away with it. She said it deliberately when he got on her case just to flout his authority.

He wasn't going to tell her anytime soon he didn't mind.

He pulled his half finished incident report to him and picked up his pen again, starting to fill out the technical stuff.

"Don't you have a wife who wants you home?" he heard her mutter sarcastically.

He almost smirked to himself, glad to be reminded he didn't actually have to go home and deal with Diane. Then he remembered what she was asking for alimony and what the empty house meant, and stopped smirking.

He didn't even know why he replied to her under-the-breath comment, but he did before he could stop the words.

"Diane left," he said dully.

It made it curiously final to say the words out loud. And besides that bastard lawyer of Diane's and her loud-mouth friend, Jenny was the first to know he was getting divorced. Again.

Pacci was going to have a damn _field_ day.

He felt her eyes on him, and looked up to see her looking at him hesitantly.

"_Don't_ apologize," he warned, half-teasing and half-serious.

"I wasn't _going_ to," she mumbled.

After another silent few minutes of staring down the ridiculous paperwork, unwilling to relive the day and the feelings, he stood up, placing his hands on the desk, knocking aside the paperwork.

"Come on," he said shortly, drawing Jenny's attention from hers as well. He grabbed his keys and flipped off his desk lamp, picking up his jacket as well.

He made his way to her desk, flicked off her lamp, and shut her paperwork file.

"I'll buy ya dinner," he said, throwing his jacket on and shrugging his shoulders to get into it.

Jenny looked up at him with a quirked eyebrow, assuming he'd lost his mind or something. He jerked his hand forward, beckoning her, and turned abruptly for the elevator. After watching his back suspiciously for a moment, she figured she could use the down time, grabbed her purse, and followed him.

* * *


	11. Antics

_A/N: Thanks to aserene! To take a break from casework..._

**

* * *

**

Chris Pacci looked down at the agent crouched beside his desk as he returned from the Director's office.

"He's in MTAC for the next fifteen minutes," he informed Jenny Shepard, sitting down with a smirk.

Across from him, his probie, Carson, was busy attempting to pretend nothing weird was happening.

Jenny got up slowly and gracefully, flashing a smile at Pacci. She leaned forward to peek into the bullpen where she worked, just to double check. That was a rule, after all—don't believe what you're told, double check.

Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. She should have known Pacci was good for his word. Grinning lopsidedly, she backed up and leaned down in front of Pacci's desk, glancing at Carson before she winked and crept out of his work area.

Pacci raised his eyebrows to himself and shook his head.

Jenny sauntered over to Gibbs' empty desk non-chalantly and picked up the hot cup of coffee he'd left sitting there after the Director had called him upstairs. It was his third cup this morning and they didn't even have a case. They hadn't had a case since the Morand fiasco closed, which meant the past five days had been technical and paper work.

Jenny was bored out of her mind, and Gibbs has become increasingly bad-tempered lately.

At least this time she knew the cause.

She looked left and right again casually, checking to make sure he hadn't somehow snuck up behind her like he usually did and turned slowly, taking his coffee with her and walking towards the filing cabinet.

"What are you doing?"

She nearly spilled the coffee all over herself and the floor.

"BURLY!" she snapped, glaring daggers at him. He lifted his eyebrows from where he stood behind the wall of the bullpen, arms crossed on top, watching her. He glanced down to the coffee cup, to Gibbs' desk, and back at her. His eyes widened.

"Is that—are you insane?" he hissed, lowering his voice instantly.

Jenny moved back towards her desk.

"What do you plan on doing with that?" Stan demanded, still looking as if someone had told him they had a sniper trained on the back of his skull.

'I can't tell you," Jenny informed him, "Rule six."

Stan paused, thinking, and stared at her. She rolled her eyes. He'd been here longer than she had and she still knew the ropes better than him. It made her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Best way to keep a secret: keep it to yourself. Second best way: tell—"

"One other person, yeah, I got it," Stan interrupted, muttering. He came into the bullpen, still speaking quietly. "So you can tell me, Shepard, what the hell you're doing with Gibbs' coffee."

She shook her head, smirking, and reached out to pat his face patronizingly.

"So sorry, Stanley," she said, clicking her tongue, "I've already _told_ one other person."

He looked put out. Jenny smiled more broadly and walked around her desk, setting the cup down and blocking Stan's view of it. She leaned against the filing cabinet.

"Maybe you've forgotten rule twenty-three," he said sarcastically, "Never mess with a Marine's coffee if you want to live?" he prompted, when she looked at him blankly.

Jenny shrugged. She hadn't heard of that one before this moment. Eh, no big deal. Rules were made to be broken and Gibbs would have a really hard time trying to kill her…

"You can go away now," she informed him brightly. He didn't move; he furrowed his brow and crossed his arms.

"Do you have some kind of mental disease? Death wish? Most of us spend our careers trying to get on Boss man's good side!" he hissed, staring at her like she was crazy.

"I'm staging an intervention," she said cryptically, putting her face closer to his. He swallowed and backed up a few inches, remembering the last _two_ times he'd crossed her.

"Why am I not allowed to know?" Stan whined childishly.

"Because I don't like you, Burly," she responded, smiling.

He winced and then glared at her in annoyance. She obviously wasn't going to forgive him for the snarky comment the first day they'd met.

"So, Gibbs do something mean to you? And you're getting back at him?"

She didn't answer. She smile at him, lifted an eyebrow, and pushed him away from the filing cabinet, walking towards him.

"I'd suggest you leave, if you want to have any kind of plausible deniability," she said sweetly.

If he interfered with her fun much longer, Gibbs was going to come storming out of MTAC like an angry bull and catch her red handed.

Stan swallowed, nodding. He clearly found her suggestion a fantastic idea. He turned, giving her one last disbelieving look over his shoulder, and returned to whatever he'd been doing with Agent Balboa's team, disappearing behind a desk in another area.

Jenny reached down to open the second to bottom drawer of the filing cabinet and shuffled through her change of clothes, two pairs of shoes, and a few other select items before finding the stuff she'd been saving for a rainy day:

Two packets of sugar and a small cup of caramel creamer.

She threw a cursory glance at MTAC before she popped the lid off of his precious coffee and proceeded to empty the sweet and sugar substances into his bitter brew. Stan might think she was crazy, but that's only because he was afraid of Gibbs. She wasn't. It was amusing to work with him, he was damn good at what he did, and she liked him.

In a completely professional and platonic way.

Snapping the coffee top back on, she added insult to injury by taking a very long drink, making sure some of her lipstick rubbed off on the top.

"I wash my hands of this," Pacci said jovially, walking by with a file in his hand. He nodded upwards to the stairs and Jenny saw Gibbs come out of MTAC, talking with the Director.

"It'll be _fun_," she drawled convincingly, getting up and replacing the cup in a completely random place on his desk.

Pacci just shook his head and went up the stairs, his smile perhaps a little too wide as he greeted Gibbs passing him on the way down.

Stan walked back into the bullpen just as Jenny re-seated herself at her desk and Gibbs walked in from the other side, muttering a good morning to her. Jenny leaned back in her chair, putting a foot against the edge of her desk, and Stan sat down at his desk hesitantly, watching cautiously.

"We're gonna—where's my--?"

Gibbs stopped mid-sentence and trailed off, looking around when he reached for his coffee on the front of his desk and came up empty handed. He twisted around and spotted it at the back of his desk by his printer. Frowning, he picked it up, opening his mouth to finish his thought.

Again, he stopped, staring at the lipstick on his cup. Slowly, he raised his eyes above the lid to Jenny, narrowing his eyes. Stan cleared his throat and bent forward, suddenly looking very interested in the file he had with him.

"Jenny," he said warningly, glaring at her.

"I was thirsty," she said, "You never think to bring me back any so…" she trailed off, shrugging.

"You don't drink _coffee_," Gibbs growled.

"You could still _ask_. It's _nice_," she informed him.

He scowled at her and wiped her lipstick off the cup with his finger. Stan looked up quickly and furrowed his eyebrows, looking from Jenny to Gibbs, obviously waiting for the explosion.

"We're going up to Norfolk. Something about some alleged sexual harassment between—_god_," he bent over the trashcan next to his desk and spat out the mouthful of coffee he'd just attempted to drink.

He tore open the cup, noted the lighter, creamier color, and promptly dropped the entire cup in the trashcan, ignoring the fact that the full cup splashed up and made a mess.

Jenny stood up as he walked forward menacingly, glaring at her.

"You really want to work with me without that cup of coffee around?" he demanded, putting his hands on the front of her desk. She leaned forward, tilting her head with a smirk.

"I'm shaking in my heels," she said sarcastically.

"You got a reason," he asked sharply, "for sabotaging my coffee?"

"Boredom," she answered simply. He looked at her like he was unaware anyone had the audacity to actually do such a heinous thing. In return, she gloated for once again thwarting his bad-ass, scary iron man routine.

"If you entertained me, I wouldn't have to resort to sabotaging your Jamaican blend," she informed him.

"You want me to find something for you to do?" he asked threateningly, squinting his eyes.

She wasn't sure exactly what he meant, but she suddenly imagined piles and piles of useless paperwork on her desk and winced.

"Nope. I'm good. Coffee did the trick," she said, dropping back down in her chair and looking up at him. She put her nail in her mouth and bit it absently, smiling.

He grunted in irritation and turned away, giving his trashcan a moody look. He really didn't want to resort to someone babysitting her whenever he left her alone, but she had pulled a few weird stunts these past few days.

He'd come back from Autopsy two days ago to find her wearing a completely different outfit.

He supposed this was better than her falling apart completely, like he'd half expected. He'd been on eggshells around her at first after the Morand Case, anticipating her breakdown. He'd seen it before; Probies hit their first really tolling case and crack under pressure; or make their first kill and never come to terms with it.

She seemed fine, though, and he sure as hell wasn't going to push her to talk or anything.

"We're going down to Norfolk to—"

"Hang on," Stan interrupted, looking immensely confused as he came around his desk, almost glaring at Gibbs.

_Almost_. He didn't actually have the guts to glare a Gibbs.

Gibbs turned a piercing glare on him. If he didn't get to finish this sentence soon, they were all in for it.

"She practically poisoned your coffee," Stan said, pointing at Jenny accusingly.

Gibbs stared at him.

"Your coffee, Boss! Your power source! _Rule_ _twenty-three_? Come _on_, Boss!" He whined, coming as close to stomping his foot as a thirty-year-old man could.

Gibbs continued to stare at him silently.

"Why does she get away with _everything_?" Stan demanded petulantly, turning to stare at Jenny in annoyance and admiration.

_Whack._

Jenny giggled as his head shot forward under Gibbs' palm.

"We are going to Norfolk to look into sexual harassment accusations," he said in a calm voice, glaring at Stan. He turned his gaze on Jenny, remaining silent a moment to give her a good glare too. She lifted her shoulders innocently.

"Get the car," he said "I'm going for coffee," he added with a growl and a menacing look at her.

Halfway out of the bullpen, he stopped and turned around, glaring at Jenny pointedly.

"You want anything?" he asked sardonically.

Stan's mouth dropped open shamelessly.

"Nah, I don't drink coffee," she answered politely. "Thanks for the offer!" she yelled after him, suppressing another laugh as he left with a glower.

She stood up and holstered her firearm, giving Stan another patronizing look as she made sure she had her badge, ID, everything she needed for a quiet investigation.

"Are you sleeping with Gibbs?" Stan asked suspiciously as she picked up her jacket.

Caught off guard, Jenny stopped and stared at him, narrowing her eyes instantly at the suggestion. Of course Stan would assume because Gibbs didn't treat her like crap, she had to be sleeping with him. That was who Stan was. That was why she didn't like or respect him; he made comments like that towards her all the time.

Glaring at him with tight lips for a moment, she reached up behind his head and slapped him hard enough to make Gibbs proud.

"You can't _do_ that!" he shrieked, grabbing his head.

She shoved by him, making sure she hit his shoulder hard, and went to get the car.

* * *

Gibbs shut the file from Norfolk in front of him and tapped his fingers on it, leaning back. He looked across the bullpen at Shepard's head, resisting the urge to ask her what she was doing on the floor behind her desk.

"What's your theory?" he asked gruffly, reaching for a cold cup of coffee. He hadn't let this one out of his sight since he'd bought it.

"She's not being harassed," Jenny answered, her voice muffled. She appeared behind her desk, rising up on her knees and leaning forward, laying her gun and holster next to her lamp. Gibbs studied her. He'd been thinking along the same lines, but he'd figured she would be more on the woman's side in the whole situation.

He smirked inwardly. Just another way she proved she wasn't the stereotypical, bleeding-heart female.

"Why?" he prompted.

She had to learn to back up her conjectures. He'd noticed she seemed to just make a statement and insist she was right. End of story. The only annoying thing was she just _happened_ to be right a lot.

Jenny shrugged, disappeared, and then reappeared with a stack of papers. She stood up and dropped back into her chair, leaning forward on her knees.

"The tears were convincing, and yeah, the guy was a slimy bastard," she said neutrally, and even a little unsympathetically, "but she had a nice hicky right under the collar of her uniform. She claims he's making her sleep with him because of some blackmail _she_ won't tell us about, which sound sketchy right there. But assault, rape—it's not about sensuality, it's about power. A predator is not going to take the time to give a hickey, and a woman desperate to be helped is not going to attempt to hide the evidence of assault if he did."

Jenny shrugged her shoulders and started flicking through the papers. She knocked them all off haphazardly into the wastebasket.

"Seems to me that her lover started seeing another girl, and she saw an opportunity to wreck his career,"

Gibbs nodded, impressed with her observation. Not that he'd admit it, but he'd been too busy focusing on the woman's eyes to notice anything else about her. He watched her jerk open a drawer, scoot her chair up, and bend over it, producing clattering noises as she shuffled through it.

He sipped the cold coffee absently, watching her curiously. She pulled a few empty water bottles out of the drawer and a hairbrush. And hairspray. Gibbs pulled the cup away from his mouth, unable to remain silent on the matter anymore.

"Jen, what the hell are you doing?"

She looked up in mild surprise.

"Cleaning out my desk," she answered slowly, caught off guard.

He raised his eyebrows and got up, coming to stand over her and examine everything. Hairbrush, hairspray, papers, gun—there were things that belonged and things that didn't. She gave him a look and went back to the drawer she was working on, which seemed to be filled with hair things.

That would explain why he rarely caught her looking like hell, even when they were up for days on a case.

"I don't like you hovering," she warned without looking up, throwing an empty Hershey's kisses bag into the trash.

"Go something to hide?" he teased. She looked up and glared at him.

"Would you like it if I got all up in your space when you were trying to work?" she asked.

"You're not _working_," he scoffed without budging. He continued to hover and Jenny rolled her eyes, opening the drawer above her current one. She started to paw through it, moving pens and other office supplies out of the way.

After a moment of being ignored, he picked up the finished files on the corner of her desk and went to the filing cabinet with them, setting his coffee cup on top and reaching down without looking to open one of the drawers.

He reached down to place the file inside in case the Norfolk thing turned into something bigger and stopped short.

"What the…"

Jenny looked up at his half-asked question and blanched, leaping up from her desk like she'd been burned. She dove forward, trying to slam the drawer shut, but Gibbs held fast, keeping it open.

He turned his head to her and stared, smirking slowly.

"What have you got in here, Shepard?" he teased, knocking her arm out of the way and moving to block her from pulling any more violent drawer slamming attempts.

He knocked aside two pairs of heels and picked up a blouse, smirking at her over his shoulder. She had a change of clothes in the filing cabinet and, if he was seeing right, other girly toiletries.

"Gibbs," she said warningly, hitting him repeatedly in the elbow. He shook her off and ignored her. She ducked under his arm and wriggled up next to the drawer, grabbing his hand. He smacked her away playfully and continued going through the drawer.

"Who knew you were such a _girl_, Jen," he taunted, rifling through the drawer.

A blouse, shoes, a skirt _and_ a pair of trousers, deodorant, a few items of make-up…he pushed aside a bottle of face wash to see what else she had in there—and stopped.

She flinched under his arm. He'd unfortunately come across her _other_ feminine products in the back, and somehow managed to pick up a very lacy, very _off_ _limits_ pair of panties.

He dropped them like he'd been shocked and drew his hand back, his ears turning red. Glancing quickly at Jenny, he was annoyed to see her looking amused, a smirk of her own playing across her lips.

She removed his fingers from the handle on the drawer one by one and slammed it shut, leaning against it.

"At least you bought me _dinner_ before you tried to get in my pants," she said sarcastically, lifting an eyebrow as she gestured to the drawer. He cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes at her, apparently trying to look _stern_ or something. Like she shouldn't have those things at work. Serve him right for snooping.

"Careful where you stick your _hands_," she teased warningly, tilting her head at him and slapping her hand against his chest as she pushed him out of her way. She sat back down at her desk and bent over her drawer again, looking up once to smile slyly at him when she caught him still glaring at her.

"It _is_ possible for women to carry a gun and wear lace too, Jethro."

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	12. FBI

_A/N: Thanks to aserene! Our favorite FBI agent makes an appearance..._

**

* * *

**

Jenny Shepard was, overall, pleased with her morning so far. Sure, it was only eight o'clock, but that was one hour _later_ than when she usually had to be at work, and she had permission to be late. She and Gibbs were on weekend duty, and crime had virtually stopped in D.C.

Weekend duty was actually her favorite. Most agents grumbled and groaned about it, but she definitely preferred weekends to weekdays. Dress codes were relaxed, the office wasn't so crowded, people even seemed generally happier—or maybe that was just her.

She was happy. It probably had something to do with the smoothie she'd treated herself to and the new shoes, but she wasn't going to question the source of the happiness.

She started to smile as she sauntered into the bullpen, planning on teasing Gibbs for having no life, when she noticed he was on the phone and restrained herself. She restrained herself further when she saw the look on his face.

Apparently Gibbs was _not_ pleased with his morning so far.

He didn't even look up as she entered. In fact, she wasn't even sure he noticed her.

"I already _agreed_ to this," he hissed through tight lips.

Jenny dropped her purse silently and sat on the edge of her desk, chewing on the straw in her smoothie and watching with interest. She cocked her head to the side to make sure she'd be able to catch every word. There really wasn't a better way to practice her investigative skills than snooping in Gibbs' super secret mysterious life.

Or at least, that's the impression he liked to give.

"Yeah, _she_ knows that," he said. He shifted his arm and put his forehead in his palm, looking seriously troubled, murderous even.

Jenny quirked her eyebrow curiously.

"She wants _WHAT_?" He barked into the receiver. Jenny startled slightly.

This was getting interesting.

Gibbs smacked his palm on the desk loudly, gritting his teeth.

"I told you to give her what she wants _within reason_!" he growled. "I'm not paying that."

Jenny held back a snicker. She was beginning to see why Gibbs had such an aversion to lawyers, which is who he was talking to if she pieced together what she heard correctly.

"She—dammit, she's out of her mind—"

He broke off, clenching his jaw tightly, listening intently.

"Emotional _what_?"

Jenny actually _did_ snicker, alerting him to her presence. His head snapped up to look at her and he fixed her with a glare so brutal she actually did shut-up for once.

"No," he snapped in a low voice, answering something, and then again, more forceful: "_No_."

His knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone, leaning forward slightly. She recognized the warning signs of someone about to get an earful.

"She is not getting the house," he hissed, and paused. "Then tell _her_ to go to hell!"

He all but threw the phone into its cradle, leaning forward and muttering a string of curse words that made Jenny lift an eyebrow. He rubbed his temples in annoyance, looking up after a moment when he felt her slightly amused gaze on him.

She smiled blithely.

"Something funny?" he snapped.

She nodded slowly, pulling the straw out of her mouth.

"You," stated, hopping off the desk and walking forward, "being jerked around by your soon-to-be-ex-wife."

She smiled annoyingly again and this time perched on the edge of his desk, arching her neck to glance around the office. Empty, except for a two agents working way off in the back corner, probably finishing up reports early so they could go home to their families.

"Diane is a _nutcase_," he muttered, and she pursed her lips, surprised. It was the first direct comment he'd made about her, besides when he told her he was getting divorced.

"That's _rude_," she admonished playfully. He looked up at her slowly, narrowing his eyes.

"You haven't _met_ her," he hissed.

Jenny shrugged lightly and sipped on her smoothie, watching him until he sighed and glared at her again.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked bitterly.

"_I'm_ in a good mood," she responded tartly, "_you_ should try it."

Her responded with another glare. Gibbs really could be very immature sometimes. Others took it as authoritative and scary; she knew it was just moody and it kept him from having to actually talk to people. He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'go away' and she narrowed her eyes at him warningly.

She started picking up his stuff and messing with it. She examined things and put them back down in different places until he finally grabbed her hand as she reached for a stapler and looked up at her with a scowl that was half a smile.

"Jen," he drawled slowly, "what're you doing?"

"Amusing myself,"

"Go do it over _there_,"

"No," she responded smartly, staring him in the face. She shook his hand off easily and made a grab for his cell phone this time. Gibbs lunged forward to block it and upset the desk slightly, jolting her. She fumbled her smoothie and it splashed all over the carpet.

"_Gibbs_!" she gasped, leaping off his desk and staring at it in outrage. She turned a fierce glare on him as he stood up and leaned forward to see the mess for himself. Her eyes flashed. "These shoes are _new_," she growled.

He looked down to see the contents of the cup speckling the straps of her pristine black heels.

"You gonna clean that up?" he asked deliberately.

"You're going to _die_," she hissed menacingly, coming around the side of the desk, avoiding the smoothie covered part of the carpet delicately.

"They're just shoes," he tried, not particularly fond of the look in her eye. She narrowed her eyes further and he took an involuntary step back from her, only imagining where her foot might end up. He winced at the thought, and took another step back.

Bad idea.

His foot tangled in the legs of his chair and he went down, his leg flying out and catching Jenny between her damaged heels. She squealed in surprised as she went down after him, her knees hitting him hard beneath the ribs. He grunted as she knocked his breath out and his head smacked against the seat of his chair, sending it backwards and leaving them sprawled on the floor behind his desk.

Jenny burst out laughing, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and muffling the sound in his shirt.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked indulgently, reaching back to rub his head gingerly.

"_That_," she gasped, giggling madly, "was the most ungraceful moment of my _life_,"

She snorted again and rolled off of him, making sure to dig the heel of her shoe into his calf in the process. She clutched her side, smiling brightly, and turned her head to look at him. He shook his head with a smirk, hard pressed not to laugh when she was acting so ridiculous.

Jenny nudged him in the side with her elbow and he relented, allowing a rare laugh to escape his lips. She raised her eyebrows triumphantly and stuck her tongue out childishly. He jerked the arm she was laying on out from underneath her roughly and she yelped as her head hit the floor, elbowing him harder this time.

God, she was attractive when she laughed.

Her smile, her flashing emerald eyes, had him thinking of other ways to get her on her back—

The sharp and annoying ring of his extension chased the dangerous thoughts from his mind. Jenny lunged forward before he could recover and reached for his phone, scrambling up on her knees. He shot up after her, grabbing her shoulder, but she shrugged and jerked away, dodging him and snatching his phone off the cradle.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs!" she announced, intent on embarrassing the hell out of him—if she hadn't already managed it.

Her face sobered slightly, and she nodded.

"Be right there," she said, hanging up. She turned swiftly and sat against his desk, ignoring the death glare he was sending her for daring to answer his phone in such a feminine, happy way.

"Fun's over," she announced grimly, "double homicide at Quantico."

* * *

"Petty Officer Smith Tucker," Jenny announced grimly, picking the ID off of the table in the room they stood in. She crouched down beside the partially undressed officer and lifted his dog tags, confirming his identity. "Three rounds to the chest," she muttered, touching the damaged skin gingerly.

Gibbs nodded as he scratched the notes down on his pad of paper, turning his attention to the young woman sprawled on the bed. There was a gun held in her hand. She, too, was partially dressed, and he could only guess at what the two had been doing when they'd been so unfortunately interrupted.

"Girl," he asked, looking back to Jenny. She sighed and pushed herself up, glancing around. She started pulling open drawers, looking for an ID.

"Got it," she announced finally, moving a few items of clothing out of the way and digging out an ID in a black cover. She furrowed her eyebrows slightly. Jenny flipped it open and raised her eyebrows.

"Uhh, Gibbs?" she started, reading the name. "Special Agent Holly Audrey, she's—"

"FBI," he muttered, and she looked up in surprise.

Gibbs was looking out the window to the street outside, his eyes narrowing in a way that boded well for no one. He left the room without a word and Jenny looked after him in annoyance. She went over to Special Agent Audrey's body and examined her wounds. She'd been killed by a miserably aimed shot to the collar bone that struck just below her neck.

Jenny swallowed hard and wrinkled her nose, turning away. She flicked the rim of her hat upwards to provide better vision and walked away from the bed, unable to do more until Ducky arrived and intent on seeing what had dragged Gibbs off.

"Jethro," she heard someone say, and older man by the sound of his voice.

"Tobias. Funny running into you on this _marine base_," Gibbs responded sarcastically. Jenny recognized it as the sarcasm he reserved for people he liked but didn't _show_ that he liked. She peeked out of the bedroom and into the hall, glancing down into the open sitting room.

The suits had arrived.

The man who'd spoken chuckled.

"Well, what can you do when the victim's an _FBI Agent_?"

Jenny rolled her eyes as she stepped into the hall, knowing a territory fight when she saw it.

_Men_.

"Rumor has it you're getting divorced again," The FBI agent quipped.

Gibbs snorted.

"'Released' is a better word," he muttered. Jenny leaned against the wall and watched as the agent tried to sidestep Gibbs unsuccessfully.

"FBI Agent,"

"Marine Base,"

Jenny slipped her notepad in her pocket, deciding it was time to intervene before they started a world-class pissing contest. It was her first time dealing with the FBI—with any other agency for that matter, and it wasn't looking like it would be to traumatizing so far.

"I can stand here all day, Gibbs."

"Go right ahead, Fornell."

"Am I going to have to put you two in time out?" Jenny asked patronizingly, eyes on her hands as she snapped her gloves off an approached them.

"_Diane_?"

Her head snapped up; she paused in mid-glove removal.

What the _hell_ had he just called her?

Gibbs actually laughed out loud.

"It was nice knowin' ya, Tobias," he snorted, throwing her an amused glance.

Jenny made sure the glove snapped loudly as she popped it off and tossed it on the floor at the FBI Agent's feet. She made it a point to glare viciously at him, sizing him up before she extended her hand coldly.

"Special Agent Jenny Shepard, NCIS." she introduced in a low voice, her eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that again." She added warningly as he took her hand with a sheepish look on her face and shook it firmly.

"Ah, saw the red hair and…" he trailed off, "Tobias Fornell, FBI," he finished instead, releasing her hand and throwing a look at Gibbs, pointing at Jenny.

"_She's_ your new partner?" he asked, lifting grey eyebrows.

Gibbs confirmed the conjecture with silence. Fornell blew out a breath of air and shook his head with a knowing grin.

"How many bets are running on _this_?" he chuckled.

Gibbs scowled at him and glanced out the window, where Ducky had just arrived and was getting a stretcher out of the truck with Fiona's help.

Jenny continued to keep a dirty look on Tobias Fornell.

"My medical examiner's here," Gibbs informed him, as if that settled it.

"One of my agents is dead, Jethro," Fornell countered, sobering up, "you'd never let another agency handle something like that and you know it."

"I think I saw a dead Marine on the floor while we were processing the crime scene, Gibbs," Jenny said casually, blinking at Fornell innocently. "That might need some investigating."

Fornell blinked at her in surprise and smirked grimly, looking back at Gibbs.

"Cute," he said sarcastically.

Gibbs smiled approvingly.

"Jethro, I was in the middle of _quite_ an exciting round of golf when you called," Ducky's admonishing brogue came through the door as he poked his head in.

"Ah, sorry Duck," Gibbs said, still watching Fornell closely.

"Yes, well, I suppose work is work—well," Ducky stopped, catching sight of Fornell.

"Joint investigation?" the M.E. asked uncertainly.

"No," Fornell and Gibbs answered immediately in unison.

Jenny rolled her eyes and brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, giving Gibbs a look as she approached Ducky and helpfully took his medical bag from him.

"There're a dead marine and a dead FBI agent in the back bedroom," she informed him grimly, looking between the two territorial males. She raised her eyebrow at ducky with a slight smile. "I think they'd better get used to the idea," she said with a wink as she turned.

Gibbs gave her a withering look and she raised her eyebrows, carrying Ducky's bag back to the room for him.

"She have you whipped or something, Gibbs?" she heard Fornell ask as she left the room.

She smirked to herself.

* * *

Jenny muttered to herself in annoyance as she ducked another tree branch, already having been assaulted one too many times. She was behind the Petty Officer's house now, following a trail of blood Gibbs had pointed out. She was also pretty sure it was punishment for telling Ducky there was indeed a joint investigation.

It didn't even really count as a trail. There were a few smeared drops, a few spaces, another pool, and it dropped off on the back patio. Either way, Gibbs insisted she go looking for something, she didn't know what. He assumed the blood trail meant that Agent Audrey had gotten off a few shots at her attacker.

Petty Officer Tucker's weapon had been found in the kitchen with a box of melted ice cream. According to his ID, and the man Gibbs was now talking to out front, he was with Quantico CID, fresh out of boot camp and stationed here for the next six months. The young man had, according to his superior, a lot of potential.

Jenny hissed as a thorny bush dug into her thigh, and started to think of different ways to harass Gibbs for this.

Fornell's partner had show up about ten minutes ago, turning pale at the sight of his fellow FBI agent. He'd known her well, according to Fornell, and was shocked to see her dead. Agent Holly Audrey had been training at the Quantico FBI academy, just shy of graduation.

Jenny stumbled forward over a tree root and cursed loudly, deciding that was the straw that broke the camel's back. She wasn't going to find anything. She turned with an angry scowl on her face and swiveled back suddenly as something flashed in her peripheral vision.

There was blood splattered all over the tree she was standing next to. Curiously, she tilted her head at it and looked around. Blood was splattered on the ground and a few bushes as well, giving the impression someone who'd been injured had been stumbling around back here.

Perhaps someone who'd been shot by an FBI agent fighting for her life, she mused, thinking back to the gun clutched in Agent Audrey's hand.

With a groan, Jenny slipped her backpack off of her shoulder and fumbled for some gloves, slightly annoyed that Gibbs had been right about checking the woods. She drew a Q-tip and evidence bag out, preparing to take a blood sample, when her knee fell against something hard and she cursed again, wondering how many ways she could possibly scraper herself up.

She looked down and widened her eyes slightly. Picking up the gun gingerly between two fingers, she jerked her cell phone out of her pocket and flipped it one.

"Gibbs," she heard his grunt of annoyance.

"I found something," she informed him, hanging up before he could ask what. She was going to make him trek all the way back here.

Just for kicks and giggles.

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	13. Interrogation

_A/N: Thanks to aserene!_

**

* * *

**

Jenny came out of MTAC with her notes in hand, just finished talking to Petty Officer Smith Tucker's Commanding Officer. She glanced into the bullpen as she came down the stairs, making a mental note to kick Fornell's partner out of her seat when she got there.

"Agent Audrey wasn't involved in anything? Undercover work?"

"She was a trainee, Gibbs. Hadn't graduated yet," Fornell replied sarcastically. Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"And the FBI's never run an un-authorized mission before," he snapped.

"Not with a trainee," Fornell retorted.

"Her involvement with this Petty Officer?" Gibbs asked, giving Fornell a glare and moving on.

"I can help with that," Fornell's partner said quietly from his chair.

"So can I," Jenny said, walking up to Gibbs' desk and dropping her notes in front of him. "I talked to Petty Officer Tucker's CO. Tucker was assigned to Quantico CID, Narcotics division. Anything we don't handle, they take. He was relatively new at the base, liked by everyone, had a good career ahead of him,"

She paused and Gibbs looked up at her, his face expressionless.

"You can do better than that," he provoked.

"Damn straight I can," Jenny muttered, narrowing her eyes. "He didn't talk much about his private life, but he hung around the training academy a lot; most of his buddies knew he was seeing someone, suspected she might be an agent. I'd bet that was Agent Audrey. I figured Agent Fornell here would take care of her background and such," she said, gesturing to Fornell with a sweet look, before going on.

"Tucker was working on a few minor drug investigations: local kids started getting heavier stuff lately, and a few new recruits turned up with some of it as well. He was working on busting a supplier, but his files are all gone. Wiped from his computer, and they can't find the hard copies,"

"His CO say who he was investigating?" Gibbs asked, standing up and picking his phone up off the cradle.

Jenny shook her head slightly, turning back to her own desk. She gave Fornell's partner a good glare and he got up and moved slowly out of the way.

"Tucker liked to keep to himself until he was sure; he didn't want to ruin careers or bust people unnecessarily."

Gibbs nodded shortly and hit a few buttons on his phone.

"Quantico CID," he said gruffly. Jenny bent over her computer as he started requesting any files on Petty Officer Tucker and booted up her computer, glancing at Fornell's partner.

"What were you going to say?" she asked. He stammered at her.

"I, um, I knew Holly---er, Agent Audrey…was seeing Tucker. They were dating." He said.

"Oh," Jenny said non-chalantly.

"Agent Stevens, don't let NCIS intimidate you," Fornell barked. Jenny lifted her eyes and looked at him smirking. She picked up her own phone and dialed Ballistics. She smiled when Harper answered in his usual annoyed way.

"Got anything for me, Harp?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice.

He changed his tune immediately and told her she could come down. She hung up and threw a look at Gibbs; he was still baffled that she could control his forensic arch-enemy so easily.

"Why are we doing all the work, Jethro?" she asked innocently, looking from Fornell to Stevens with a fake puzzled look. She smiled and swept out of the bullpen for Ballistics.

Gibbs straightened up and glared at Agent Stevens. He turned to Fornell.

"I like mine better," he said bluntly. Fornell smirked.

"Mine's not a redhead in heels, Gibbs," he retorted smartly.

* * *

Jenny, Gibbs, Fornell, and Stevens stood in the observation room, all four watching Petty Officer Kyle Anderson through the glass.

Harper's results had turned up his fingerprints and sweat all over the gun Jenny had found in the woods, not to mention it was his blood spread all over the place. They had tracked him down to a hospital in Annandale, being treated for gunshot wounds through the shoulder and the foot.

He was a new recruit; extremely young, had a girlfriend and a new born, and had remained stubbornly silent since they brought him in.

"How long are we going to stare at him, Gibbs?" Fornell asked darkly, his face set.

Gibbs transferred the file he had from one hand to the other and handed it to Jenny, barely glancing at her.

"Your interrogation, Shepard," he said mildly.

Jenny took the file hesitantly, widening her eyes slightly, and looked in on the Petty Officer. She glanced back at Gibbs.

"_My_ interrogation?" she repeated, just to be sure.

"Gibbs, I've got a dead trainee and my Director's riding my ass to figure this out, I don't have time to help you train your probie," Fornell broke in stiffly.

Jenny stiffened her shoulders and glared at him.

"She can do it, Tobias," Gibbs said calmly, facing straightforward. Fornell gave them both a warning look and muttered under his breath. Jenny compressed her lips and left the room, making sure to slam it loudly behind her.

"You pissed her off," Gibbs noted.

"That bad?" Fornell asked sarcastically.

Gibbs just turned slightly and gave him a look.

Jenny entered the interrogation room with less force than she'd left observation. Kyle Anderson looked up at her and back down at the table, scowling. She took the chair opposite him and drew it back a little, sitting down and crossing her legs. She looked at him intently until he slowly glanced up at her, and then non-chalantly looked down and opened the file Gibbs had given her on her lap.

"You seem upset, Petty Officer." She said quietly, reading over his file without really reading it.

He made a noise of disgust. Jenny looked up and he straightened a little, lifting his head from its bowed position.

"What were you doing this morning, Kyle?" she asked smoothly.

"Sleepin'," He answered promptly. Jenny nodded slowly.

"How did you get your injuries?" she asked mildly.

"On the range," he answered just as promptly. Jenny looked up slowly, raising her eyebrows. She stared pointedly at his shoulder, flicked her eyes to his foot hidden under the table, and raised the back to him.

"You must be a terrible shot," she commented mockingly. He bristled.

"I _ain't_," he snarled, immediately rising to her challenge. "I just…um," he broke off; realizing she'd riled him up with a jab at his skills.

"Do you want me to ask the question again?" she asked, giving him a slight smile. He put his head in his hands and slumped his shoulders, looking back up at her.

"I didn't do nothin', okay?" he said.

"Did you know Petty Officer Smith Tucker?" she asked.

"He's a base cop," Anderson answered distastefully.

"You didn't like him?" Jenny asked, raising her eyebrows.

"He wasn't no hero," Anderson snapped, "Everyone thought he was, but he didn't do any good."

"Not everyone," Jenny corrected quietly. Anderson looked at her warily, and she casually slipped a few photos out of her file.

"Someone shot him, Kyle. Three taps to the chest," she said, watching his face carefully. His eyes twitched and he turned his head away, shaking it slightly. Jenny placed Agent Audrey's photo on the table. "Same person shot her, Kyle."

He didn't look. He shook his head again and mumbled.

Jenny got up and threw the file on the table. She walked around to his side of the table, watching him closely.

"Kyle," she said suddenly, placing her hand on his shoulder. He flinched and turned to look up at her, his face pale and splotchy. "I think you're lying to me," she said solemnly. Jenny leaned forward and put her face next to his, glaring at him.

He looked away, but she grabbed his face in her hands and glared at him again. Anderson closed his eyes and Jenny released him, sitting down on the table next to him. She looked down on him, and then tilted her head up to the ceiling, speaking slowly and casually.

"Lucky for me, I have the gun that killed Petty Officer Tucker and Agent Audrey. If not, I might believe you—but your fingerprints are all over it. It's a dead giveaway, Kyle. Always wear gloves. It's a rule," she paused, smirking slightly. "Your blood's at the crime scene too, that's always helpful. Background check says you grew up at Quantico, third generation military. Rebelled a little, got into drugs in high school. It didn't stop when you joined the Corp, did it, Kyle? Tucker was investigating _you_,"

"NO!" Anderson yelled, his voice breaking. He slammed his fist down on the table and shook his head furiously. "_NO_! HE was blaming me, but I didn't _do_ anything. I been clean since my girlfriend got pregnant, I—I joined—"

"You've already lied to me once, Kyle," Jenny interrupted coldly. She turned her eyes on him sharply. "You don't expect me to believe you now?"

"He was a dirty cop!" Anderson cried, shaking his head, "He was sellin' them kids drugs and blamin' me, because I was on probation an' everyone knew…and he wouldn't—everyone thought he was so great—but it was him an', Sergeant Cook, I found out, and I wanted to warn him—to scare him—"

"Sergeant Cook?" Jenny asked suddenly, her eyebrows furrowed. She'd spoke to him about Petty Officer Tucker in MTAC. He'd been a good friend of the man, and angry over his death. Anderson nodded fiercely.

"He was my recruiter, he said the Corp would turn me around and it _did, _Lady, I swear! I swear! I was tryin' to make a better life and then they started blamin' me for all the drugs and-and they planted stuff in my house and I got probation—check his _files_—I—"

Jenny watched him, watched his face closely. He was flustered, desperate. Not desperate like a man cornered after murder, but desperate in a different way. She pressed her lips together and listened to him ramble. She'd found Tucker's manner of investigating odd herself, and the missing files were just weird.

"I want to know what happened last night, Kyle," she said suddenly, in a flat voice. She glared at him and he tried to hold her gaze. He finally broke down in tears and bowed his head, speaking in short breaths.

"I took my gun…I'd confronted him about framing me and he—he said if I didn't keep my mouth shut, Sergeant Cook would hurt my girl or my baby—they said I didn't understand and if I was gonna take the fall…I was mad, they threatened by son and my girl…I went to his house and I was gonna---but I didn't know she'd be there, and she fired first and..I didn't mean for her to get killed but I was scared…and then I…I shot him…"

Jenny turned slightly to look towards the glass as Anderson fumbled off into unintelligible words. She stood slowly, reached across the desk and gathered everything up slowly. She left the room without a word, and met Gibbs and the others in the hallway, her face grim.

"We need the files," Fornell said.

Gibbs looked at Jenny.

"If we can get his computer, I might be able to recover them," she hesitated, "with help from the Cyber Unit." She conceded with a grimace.

"Stevens," Fornell barked, "get an order to confiscate Tucker's computer." Stevens nodded and went off down the hall.

"Jen," Gibbs said, "Go with Fornell. Back to Quantico, search Tucker's place, his office, talk to his CO again, and this sergeant,"

"When did you become my boss?" Fornell asked, as Jenny handed the file to Gibbs. She turned slightly to Fornell and raised an eyebrow. He glowered at them both and turned to go. Jenny started to follow him.

"Not bad, Shepard," she turned when she heard Gibbs say it, watching him walk down the hall after Stevens. She smirked to herself and went to catch up with Fornell. He gave her a look out of the corner of his eye that was half-knowing, half-teasing. She wasn't quite sure she liked it.

Jenny glared at him.

"I'm driving," she said shortly.

* * *

"Got it!" Jenny announced breathlessly, dropping a heavy file of printed material on Gibbs' desk. Fornell turned away from the corkboard and Stevens looked up from his phone conversation. Gibbs glanced up at her bright eyes and down at the file, silently questioning her.

"The files, encrypted e-mails—it had all been erased. Everything. Petty Officer Anderson was telling the truth. The dates Tucker had citing Anderson's involvement were sloppy, hardly any of them coincided with Anderson's schedule, and he wasn't even in _town_ at one point. At first there's nothing connecting Sergeant Cook to the case—until Barnes in Cyber decoded the e-mails. It's all planned, all there. And," Jenny stopped, her eyes flashing triumphantly, "Harper pulled a print off Tucker's computer; it's Cook's. _He_ was the one who erased the files after Tucker turned up dead, covering the trail,"

Gibbs stood up when she paused for a breath, his eyes flashing. He was probably just as angry as her that a senior Marine official was getting the teens on base hooked on hard drugs, just to make a couple bucks.

"Agent Gibbs!" Gibbs glanced towards the sound of his name. Fiona entered the room, breathlessly, holding out a paper, "Harper caught me in the hall, wanted me to give you this." She handed it to him, humming anxiously.

Jenny smiled slightly at her.

"The cocaine they found in Anderson's house," Gibbs said, dropping the paper and looking up, "_was_ planted. Harper pulled a partial someone else missed off of the wrapping."

Stevens hung up the phone he was using and stood, turning to Fornell.

"Quantico said Sergeant Cook went on leave yesterday," he said slowly, "he's got tickets to Mexico, heading for Dulles this morning."

"Jen," Gibbs snapped, tossing her the keys.

"Car," she nodded and snatched her gun off her desk, disappearing.

In the garage, Gibbs snatched the keys from her and refused to let her drive. Fornell and Stevens got in their own car, heading out before she and Gibbs. He dropped his foot on the gas and Jenny clenched her hands on her knees, turning a glare on him.

"You trying to kill us?" she asked through gritted teeth, flinching as he blatantly ran a red light.

"Wouldn't want Fornell to beat us there," he responded with a smirk, pressing harder on the gas.

Jenny rolled her eyes and couldn't help but smile a little.

* * *

FBI Agent Tobias Fornell paused momentarily on the catwalk as he left Director Morrow's office, watching his old friend in the bullpen. He'd been surprised to meet Jethro's new partner, and even more surprised that they seemed to get on well.

She was competent, clever, didn't let Gibbs intimidate her or push her around. Gibbs seemed confident in her abilities, trusted her, and didn't have the look of constant pain on his face he'd seemed to have with the other trainees.

Fornell smirked as he continued on his way, watching as Jenny Shepard laughed at something and sat on the edge of Gibbs' desk, saying something back to him. Of course, the fact that Gibbs got on so well with his probie had nothing do to with her crimson hair, long legs, and pretty green eyes…

"Stevens, we're going," Fornell snapped at his agent, who was half-asleep at a spare desk. The boy jumped and tumbled out of his chair, scrambling up instantly and grabbing his things.

"Well Jethro," Fornell started. Gibbs stood, nodding imperceptibly to his friend.

"Nice working with you again," Fornell said with a slight smirk, turning to nod to Jenny as well.

"Wish I could say the same, Tobias," Gibbs countered.

"Play nice," Jenny warned, looking between them both with a raised eyebrow.

Fornell shook his head and started to go, turning back to them with a grin.

"You think I could get Diane's number, Jethro?" he asked wryly.

"Ah, hell, Tobias," muttered Gibbs, scowling.

"Director wants to see you!" Fornell shouted over the dinging of the elevator. Jenny smirked at Gibbs as he came around the desk and he ignored her resolutely. She followed him up to Morrow's office.

"Go right in," Charlene said with a smile, covering the mouthpiece of her headset. She went back to her phone conversation as they went in. Jenny slipped their case reports into the box on Morrow's desk easily before stepping back next to Gibbs.

"That's quite a scratch, Agent Shepard," Morrow said, looking up and removing his glasses. Jenny touched her cheek absent mindedly.

"He really didn't want to come peacefully," she remarked, remembering Sergeant Cooks frighteningly long nails as he'd drug them over her cheek. Gibbs glanced at her sideways and narrowed his eyes.

"I appreciate your cooperation with the FBI," Morrow said smoothly, standing up. He gave Gibbs a knowing look, and turned to Jenny.

"I hear you're doing well," he said.

Jenny smiled, and only a _little_ smugly. Morrow returned the smile.

"Good night, Agent Gibbs. Agent Shepard," he said, as a dismissal.

Jenny returned the words and followed Gibbs out of Morrow's office. She said goodnight to Charlene as well and Gibbs held the outer office door open for her. On the catwalk, she leaned against the railing, watching the slowly emptying office, and spoke casually to Gibbs as he walked past her towards the stairs.

"Any reason Fornell mistook me for your wife?" she asked, turning her head to him.

Gibbs backtracked slightly and gave her a non-committal look.

"Diane has red hair," he said non-chalantly.

"Hmmm," Jenny nodded, "you have some sort of thing for redheads?" she asked, turning towards him. He raised his eyes heavenward and turned towards her, smirking patronizingly.

"What gives you that idea, _Jen_?" he asked slowly, looking down at her.

"Stan thinks we're sleeping together," she answered instead. He didn't look surprised. "Fornell, too." She added.

"Wishful thinking, Jenny?" Gibbs asked, the first real joke she'd maybe ever heard him make. His eyes glinted and she smiled slightly.

She leaned closer and he pulled back. She smirked.

"On your part, maybe," she teased, parting her lips at him suggestively. He studied her for a moment and leaned closer to her himself. She pulled back this time, her heart slamming against her ribs.

For a split second she swore he was about to kiss her.

He smirked instead.

"G'night, Jen," he said, leaving her standing on the catwalk with her blood rushing in her ears and her heart pounding too fast for her own good.

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	14. Security Detail

_A/N: Thanks to aserene!_

* * *

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was annoyed. He was annoyed and he was mind-_numbingly_ bored, which was not a good combination for anyone. He had been in and out of mandatory seminars all day, each of which was as pointless and tedious as the next. Currently, he was sitting in the dark of MTAC for a lecture on updated Security Protocols and getting increasingly _wary_.

It had been nearly twenty minutes and Jenny hadn't done anything inappropriate. Not a comment, not a movement, not a _word_. It was a record for her, considering today's track record. She did not like sitting around listening to people talk, as she made clear.

In the Sensitivity to Women in the Workplace Seminar, she'd spent the entire hour and a half complaining in his ear that she didn't understand why she had to be there when she was a female.

In Sensitivity Training, she'd tripped Burly, pinched Burly, and flicked paper at Burly.

The Sexual Harassment Seminar was the worst by far. She'd done something—and he wasn't sure he wanted to know what—to make one of the other Probies turn bright red and fall out of his seat. She'd inched closer and closer to him until she was practically on top of him and then proceeded to play footsie the entire time.

On top of all of that, Gibbs was pretty sure she'd done something to his coffee again. She kept snickering every time he took a drink.

On cue, she leaned over and dropped her head on his shoulder dramatically, rolling her eyes up in her head. She peeked at him with one eye and sighed loudly, causing a few people to turn around and look.

Gibbs scowled and they turned back around.

When he was sure they weren't being watched anymore, he set his coffee in a cup holder and flicked her in the ear with sharply. Jenny jerked back, reaching up to touch the ear, looking at him in with wide-eyes, in silent outrage.

He looked straight ahead.

If she thought he would never retaliate, she had another thing coming.

She remained still for a few minutes, presumably caught off guard.

Then she slipped her hand under the arm rest and poked him mercilessly in the ribs. He flinched and pushed her hand away, dropping it back in her lap. She dragged her nails across his hand and he jerked it back, turning a glare on her.

Jenny smirked.

"Teach you to hit a _girl_," she hissed, turning her nose up.

Jenny leaned across him suddenly and reached for his coffee. He crossed his legs non chalantly and she hit her chin on his knee, barely muffling her squeal of pain as she bit her tongue. His face remained expressionless to the few agents who turned around to look again and she shifted to glare at him.

"You don't like coffee," he muttered, shrugging, "I was protecting you."

She snatched his coffee cup away and jerked back to her seat, still glowering at him.

"It's _grown_ on me," she whispered, knocking the coffee top off and taking a long sip as she stared at him boldly over the rim of the cup.

He snorted and shook his head.

Unbeknownst to Gibbs or Jenny, a few of the NCIS agents closest to them, the ones who'd always thought Gibbs' 'good-side' was a myth, exchanged wide-eyed looks at the sound of his muffled _laugh_.

Gibbs leaned over on his arm. Jenny held the coffee away, widening her eyes.

"You want this back?" she asked innocently.

He narrowed his eyes at her, not about to disgrace himself by making a grab for it. She titled it back and forth slightly, keeping it far enough away so that he couldn't reach but not in eye-sight of the Director up front.

"Come _get_ it," she hissed, propping her heeled foot up on the armrest and raising an eyebrow.

Gibbs looked down at the stiletto that was currently positioned in the middle of his chest. He studied it for a moment, looking for the fastener, and reached for it casually when he found it. Her foot twitched back, but he grabbed it and held it firmly in place while he undid the buckle.

"_Stop it_," she ordered, sounding panicked.

He glanced up at her and grinned wickedly, removing the show and dropping it unceremoniously to the floor. It made a soft thump on the carpeted floor.

"What _the_—"

He tickled her foot.

She sucked in her breath and bit her lip, jerking her foot violently back.

"Gibbs you _bastard_," she hissed, curling her foot in, obviously struggling not to laugh. Her hand jolted and she almost dropped his coffee cup.

Jenny giggled out loud and covered her mouth rapidly with her hand, widening her eyes.

"_Behave_, Shepard," Gibbs reprimanded sharply. She bit down harder on her lip and glared spectacularly, considering he had her foot at his mercy. Slowly, she lowered the hand holding his coffee hostage and held it out to him, her hand shaking slightly.

He smirked at her and took it, patting her foot patronizingly as he settled back in his seat. She drew her foot back and her knees to her chest, scowling at him.

Jenny watched him bask in his triumph, plotting revenge silently. Casually, she relaxed her position and settled her feet back on the ground, slouching towards him in her chair. Sidling her barefoot over to his leg slowly, she found the cuff of his pants and slipped her foot up his leg, pressing her toes against the first bare patch of skin she found.

He jumped a mile and practically threw his coffee into the cup holder, narrowly avoiding a spill.

Jenny smiled sweetly at Pacci when he turned around and craned his neck to see what was going on. She even threw in a little wave to allay his concern.

Jenny leaned closer to Gibbs and rested her head on his shoulder, whispering in his ear in a sultry voice:

"Is this making you uncomfortable, Jethro?"

Gibbs swallowed and swatted her away. She wriggled her toes on his leg again.

"Your feet are _freezing_," he growled under his breath.

He reached over and grabbed her leg at the knee, squeezing sharply. Gasping, she narrowed her eyes at him and smirked in a wicked way that actually _scared_ him before she squealed loudly.

"Agent Gibbs! That is red light behavior!" she said, glaring him straight in the eye.

She might as well have _yelled_ it.

Gibbs yanked his hand back from her knee before anyone could turn around and see where it was. He returned her glare viciously, aware of the fact that every agent in MTAC was now staring at them. Jenny leaned away from Gibbs slowly, pressing her lips together to hold back laughter and trying to look as serious as possible.

The lights in MTAC went up and the screen went neutral. Director Morrow got up from his seat, turning towards the all with a slightly amused look in his eyes.

"It seems not all of you found that as important as I did," he admonished gently, his look falling on Jenny and Gibbs.

She at least had enough shame to blush slightly and sink down in her seat. Unable to help it, Gibbs smirked triumphantly at her embarrassment. She shot an indecipherably look at him out of the corner of his eye.

"Last thing on the agenda," Morrow started, amid a few poorly concealed groans. The Director smiled knowingly. "_Last_," he stressed.

"The White House Charity Ball tomorrow night," he began, speaking clearly and standing in front of them, "is being attended by SecNav, his wife, the Marine Corp Commandant, _his_ wife, almost fifty other high ranking Naval Officers, _and_ myself this year. In addition to his personal detail and the Secret Service, SecNav has requested extra security presence on site."

Gibbs resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest hard object. Jenny sensed his irritation and looked at him, raising her eyes in amusement before she looked back to the Director.

"It's a security nightmare, I'm aware. It's a coordination nightmare. But we're going to do it with a smile. The FBI will have presence there, as well as NSA," Morrow shrugged apologetically, throwing a knowing look to Gibbs, "Most of you will be stationed on the grounds, or at entrances and exits. Some of you will be mingling, some of you in the security rooms."

Morrow paused, with another look at Gibbs and Jenny.

"I certainly hope you're up to date on security protocol," he quipped, turning to the agents in the front row.

He started to assign duties and after listening for a moment, Jenny leaned over to Gibbs a little skeptically.

"Do we always go this far for security detail?" she asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Half the agency to protect SecNav at the White House, where Secret Service and a thousand other security measures would be in place, seemed _excessive_.

Gibbs shook his head with a dark look at the Director.

"National Security alert is high," he muttered with a shrug, "SecNav is over-cautious. If anything goes wrong, he'd love to say NCIS was most prepared."

Jenny rolled her eyes and turned back to the Director.

Gibbs continued to glare moodily. He prayed they'd get assigned patrol or something. Anything that didn't involve a stuffy suit and small talk with the tight-sphincters—

"Gibbs and Shepard, Pacci and Carson," the Director hesitated, glancing around, "Decker and Kasey. Wear something nice," he said, with a slight smile, "you'll be in the midst of it all. Coordinate here before you go; sixteen hundred _sharp_."

Gibbs tilted his head back and groaned, scowling. Jenny poked him in the shoulder.

"Does this mean I get to buy new shoes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him attractively.

"'Means we're being _punished_," he responded sarcastically.

Jenny wrinkled her nose at him, mocking him, and snagged his coffee again, wiggling her eyebrows as she leaned back with it and went to fasten her shoe back on.

He gave her a calculating look out of the corner of his eye and found himself contemplating a way to amuse himself at the Charity _thing_ that involved Jenny and a large amount of alcohol…

* * *

Jethro Gibbs' eyes kept drifting back to Jenny as Pacci droned on about security procedure. Pacci knew procedure, Gibbs knew procedure, even Jenny, Carson, and Agents Decker and Kasey knew procedure, and they were relatively new.

He was already uncomfortable in his tux. And it reminded him of marriage, which in turn reminded him of his divorce. So the evening just hadn't started off well. Carson and Kasey were staring at Pacci with rapt attention, Carson because he idolized his mentor and Kasey because—from what Gibbs had heard—she was an obsessive perfectionist. Decker looked half interested, half annoyed and Jenny was being distracting.

She probably didn't realize how distracting she was being.

He almost couldn't take his eyes off of her. He had to, because he sure as hell didn't want her to know he was looking, but it was a damn shame to look away. His mouth had gone dry when she walked in, and he was still trying to beat his heart rate into submission.

He'd worked with her for a couple months now. He was used to her teasing. He was aware she was attractive, he was aware he was on some level attracted to her, even though he kept trying to tell himself that just because she had red hair didn't mean he was fated to _want_ her. For some reason, though, he hadn't prepared himself for her to walk in looking like _this_. And he wasn't at _all_ prepared for the reaction.

She flicked her eyes over to him and twitched her nose in annoyance, rolling her eyes slightly at Pacci.

She tilted her head to the side and leaned gingerly back against Carson's desk, her shoulders falling with a quiet sigh of boredom.

Gibbs swallowed hard and forced himself to look back at Pacci, or anywhere else for that matter.

He scowled slightly at nothing in particular. Her dress was just a _sin_, plain and simple.

Pacci turned to Decker and Kasey and handed them their earwigs, helping explain to Kasey how to use them. Gibbs' eyes drifted back to Jenny. She blew a tendril of hair out of her face and looked at the clock across the room.

"Jethro," Pacci said, shouldering him and holding out an earwig and wristlet for him. "Red _light_," the other Agent quipped with a smirk, nodding his head slightly in Jenny's direction.

Gibbs glared at him as he fastened in the ear-wig and secured the wristlet, taking the other pair from Pacci for Jenny.

She took the earwig without complaint, but stopped when he handed her the bracelet.

"I have to wear that?" she asked, looking at it distastefully. He rolled his eyes and picked her wrist up off Carson's desk, fastening the wristlet on himself.

Jenny scowled at it like it had personally offended her.

"Are we free yet?" she asked, looking up from the bracelet and jerking her head at Pacci.

Gibbs smirked and nodded, feeling her pain. They both liked Pacci, but sometimes he could get wordy. And Jethro Gibbs did not like wordy any more than Jenny Shepard did, when it came to giving orders.

She reached out and straightened his tie, patting his lapels mockingly.

"You clean up nice, Jethro," she teased.

"C'mon," he said gruffly.

She followed him to the elevator with the other four agents and leaned against the back wall for the ride to the garage. She started for their usual car and he caught her wrist and shook his head slightly, pulling her towards the nicer black sedans the agency reserved for events like this.

She raised her eyebrows in approval.

Almost automatically, Gibbs opened the passenger side for her. He scared off her snarky comment with a glare and shut the door, trying to force the image of the flash of thigh her dress had revealed out of his head.

Settling behind the wheel himself, he went for the gear-shift only to stop and look around. He looked up at her slowly.

"You have a purse or something?" he asked.

Jenny turned to him, her expression quizzical.

"Is that a requirement?" she asked.

She didn't take her purse with an evening gown, and she definitely didn't carry it on duty.

"Jen, you're supposed to be carrying," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

She'd been told that. She should know that. They were _security_.

Her eyebrow lifted slightly, and her lips quirked up in a small smile.

"I am carrying," she responded simply, turning back to look out the front window.

He glanced over her, and decided not to ask where she was keeping her SIG.

* * *

Two hours later and Gibbs was ready to turn his SIG on himself.

Everywhere he turned women were simpering in order to advance their politician husbands, politicians were simpering to advance themselves, and people were getting in his way and making his life difficult.

Gibbs was convinced it was an all out personal attack on his nerves.

He rubbed his temples with a slight sigh for the twentieth time in ten minutes and looked up, searching for the bar. He'd held off on the drinking for as long as possible, and if he couldn't be home in his nice basement with his nice boat, he could at least drink the edge off.

He spotted Pacci across the room and pointed subtly in the direction of the bar so he'd know his location, and turned to battle his way through the crowd—hopefully without being spotted by someone he knew who wanted to _talk_.

He stopped abruptly in approaching the bar when he saw Jenny there, momentarily content to run his eyes over her exposed back while there was no risk of being caught. The fairness of her skin was a sharp contrast to the dark purple of her gown; it was really starting to mess with his judgment.

Blinking, he reminded himself where he was and _who_ she was, and continued towards the bar.

Jenny Shepard had just placed her order when Gibbs appeared out of nowhere, as per usually. She gave him a look out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she was ever going to get used to him just showing up.

"What're you drinking?" he asked.

She noticed, with no small amusement, that he looked like someone had performed Chinese Water Torture on him for six hours straight. Smiling slightly, she turned around and leaned back against the white-clothed table on her elbows, tilting her head over at him.

"It's just a _party_," she said. He gave her a look that could kill, and she shrugged, smiling wider. "Dry Martini," she answered.

He snorted and shook his head.

"No, you're not," he said.

Jenny furrowed her eyebrows as he spoke to the waiter, rudely cancelled her order, and smirked at her like he was proud of himself.

"_What_ did you just order me?" she asked warily, not sure she'd heard him right.

"Bourbon," he answered promptly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and turned her eyes on the mass of people milling around the ballroom.

Her cheeks were flushed slightly and her eyes were bright. Figures she'd be the type to dance at these stupid things. He turned when the guy with the drinks tapped his shoulder, took the tumblers, and handed her one.

Jenny looked down at the dark amber liquid and back at Gibbs.

"I don't drink Bourbon," she informed him, giving him a dark look.

"Yeah, well, you didn't drink coffee when you started working for me," he pointed out. "That changed."

She squinted at him and chewed on the inside of her cheek.

"I was looking forward to my martini," she muttered at him.

He shrugged and held his tumbler out to her in a toast, downing half of his glass in one go. She stared at him like he was crazy. Still giving him an odd look, she seemed to forget she was holding bourbon as she lifted the glass to her mouth and took a generous gulp.

The look on her face was priceless.

She scrunched her nose in distaste and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. When she opened her eyes, she glared at him angrily and he responded with a rare grin of intense amusement.

"This tastes like _acid_," she snapped. She stepped up closer and darkened her glare, almost as tall as him in the heels she was wearing, "Get me my martini." She ordered.

"It's an _acquired_ taste, Jen," he placated, smirking at her over the rim of his glass as he took another drink.

She glared still.

"Like _you_?" she retorted sarcastically, sniffing the Bourbon tentatively. She gave the liquor a suspicious look.

"Kinda," Gibbs answered. "Give it a chance."

"Hmmm," she mused, holding out between them and examining it. "I might need to if I continue to have to put up with _you_…" she trailed off, looking up at him through her eyelashes and giving him a small smirk.

He gave her that one.

She lifted the tumbler to her lips and took a smaller sip, wincing slightly as she swallowed. She crinkled her nose again and pursed her lips.

"Doesn't burn so much the second time," she announced.

His gaze roamed from her hand on the glass to the red bunch of curls balanced in a messy waterfall on her shoulder, imitating the color of expensive wine. He raked his eyes over the curve of her exposed neck and back to her green eyes. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and smiled slightly.

"This would be less awkward if you talked," she stage-whispered.

Gibbs wasn't sure exactly what she was referring to. Either she'd noticed he was shamelessly drinking her in or she was uncomfortable with silence. He cleared his throat slightly and glanced around over the rim of his cup. Nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

"That guy looks miserable," he muttered, gesturing with his glass towards a particularly pained looking suit near the wall.

Jenny turned slightly to look and smirked slowly, turning back. She lowered her voice.

"Senator Callahan," she said grimly, "has _roaming_ hands."

He raised a suspicious eyebrow at her, and glanced back at the Senator. He did, in fact, look very much in pain, standing with a few women and other Senators. Looking slowly back to Jenny, Gibbs almost didn't ask.

Almost.

"_What_ did you do?"

"I gave him a yellow light," Jenny answered sweetly.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and compressed his lips. She smiled a little, relenting.

"I demolished his left foot with my heel," she said breezily, "and while I did it, I made sure he felt my SIG."

Gibbs couldn't help but shift his eyes towards her waist, where the material of her dress was too tight to conceal a weapon underneath, thus forcing him to look lower. He looked back up hesitantly, just as she turned her head away with a smirk, unconsciously taking another sip of her bourbon.

"If you're wondering where it is," she said slowly, "I'll show you later."

He raised his eyebrows and smirked. Jenny's cheeks flushed suddenly and she looked back at him swiftly with slightly widened eyes.

"I meant, when," she stammered and swallowed, laughing a little. "I meant when I'm wearing, you know…something else. Slacks or...or jeans."

She took a _real_ drink of the bourbon.

"Red light, Agent Shepard," Gibbs retaliated with a smirk, imitating her MTAC stunt.

Jenny closed her eyes briefly, looking away from his piercing blue eyes. She let him have the win this time, because she was too distracted by the inappropriate thoughts running through her head.

* * *

Jenny stood in the parking garage with her heels in her hand, leaning against the black sedan. Her head was pounding, she felt she had a little too much to drink, her feet were killing her, she was tired, and she was waiting on Gibbs.

He was checking in with Morrow before they left. It was almost one in the morning. Jenny concluded the Charity Ball had only been fun for about two hours, up until the point Senator Callahan had grabbed her ass.

There weren't even any exciting political debates or daring assassination attempts to entertain her.

She switched her shoes to the other hand and set her elbow on top of the car, resting her head in it gently. She closed her eyes briefly, listening to Carson and Pacci say their goodnights to Decker and Kasey, vaguely wondering why the hell it was taking Gibbs so long to make a phone call.

"Jenny," she blinked and looked up, startled.

Gibbs was looking at her from across the car, the driver's side door open.

"Get in the car," he said, clearly amused. She narrowed her eyes at him and pulled the door open, pulling her dress off the pavement of the garage as she got in easily.

He started the engine and pulled out of the garage. Jenny groaned as she remembered the ridiculous amount of checkpoints they had to get through. Granted, it was faster when you were a federal agent.

"Jenny," he said again. She glared at him, lifting her head off the head rest. "Badge," he said, holding out his hand.

She opened the glove compartment, fumbling with the latch, and pulled out her batch and ID, slapping them into his hands. He handed them both to the window and glanced back at her, smiling slightly.

"Why are you so happy?" she asked moodily.

"We're free," he retorted simply.

Jenny snorted. She had to agree with him on this one, even if she wasn't going to tell him that. The Charity Ball had not been the most pleasant thing on earth, and she'd rather let Stan kick her butt in the ring than go through it again.

Not that Stan _could_.

Jenny shifted uncomfortably in the seat; the holster above her knee scratching her again like it had been all night. She felt another pang of annoyance towards Gibbs—he got to wear a belt and holster is gun _there_.

"My car's at NCIS," she muttered, rolling her head to look at him. He seemed to consider her for a moment before her turned his eyes back to the road and made a face she almost questioned but decided to let go.

She neglected her seatbelt and shifted again, throwing her heels up on the dashboard and glaring at them. She had loved them so much this morning when she bought them. They matched the dress perfectly. Now she wanted to burn them. She couldn't exactly place why she was in such a bad mood all of the sudden. Then she remembered half the reason was chafing her thigh.

"Dammit," Jenny muttered.

She made an annoyed noise in her throat and bent forward, grabbing her dress at the hem and hiking the material up her legs until it bunched between her legs.

"What the _hell_—"

"Oh _relax_," she snapped at Gibbs, propping her foot up on the dashboard, careful to make sure nothing was _really_ showing before she pulled the fabric back a little more to reveal her SIG. She tore the Velcro of the holster and dropped her leg down, relaxing her shoulders.

"You wanted to know where it was anyway."

She was comfortable enough with Gibbs not to care if he saw a little skin.

Jenny brushed the dress back down and laid her SIG on the dashboard with her heels, leaning back more comfortably. She turned into the seat and closed her eyes a little.

"I'm taking you home," he announced gruffly, and she opened her eyes.

"My car is at the Navy Yard," she repeated.

"You can't drive, Jen, you'll kill yourself," he informed her matter-of-factly. He made an illegal U-turn and went in the opposite direction, towards Georgetown.

She closed her eyes again instead of protesting.

"You drank as much as I did," she muttered, eyes still closed.

"I drink bourbon all the time," he answered quietly.

She furrowed her eyebrows.

"I only had two glasses," she protested.

"It's strong if you're not used to it,"

"Maybe _you're_ just an alcoholic," she grumbled, tucking her head closer to her shoulder. She heard him snort and made a mental note to roll her eyes at him when she had the strength to actually open them.

When she was silent for longer than three minutes, Gibbs glanced over to see what was wrong.

Jenny was asleep.

He looked at her a little closer and smiled slightly, turning his eyes back to the road.

After everything he'd done to daunt her and trip her up, the bourbon had conquered Jenny Shepard.

He shook his head slightly, finding it easy to stay awake in the silence. He had too much to think about anyway, and a boat to get home to. At least the house was quiet; Diane wouldn't be there to demand he come to bed or clean something up or…god knows what else.

Jenny muttered something unintelligible and moved her head.

Gibbs pulled into her driveway and the lights on her porch flicked on at the movement. He turned the car off and turned towards her.

"Jen," he said quietly. Then, "_Jenny_," a little louder.

"Jethro," she mumbled back, and he couldn't tell if she was awake or sleeping still. She did have that amusing tendency to talk in her sleep.

He reached over and touched her face, saying her name again. Her eyes flew open and she looked at him like a cornered cat for a minute before she relaxed and sat up. She stared at him for a moment and then leaned forward for her shoes and her gun. He handed her the badge and ID as well as she reached for the door handle.

She got out of the car with little trouble and flinched at the tough concrete on her sore feet.

Jenny turned and to shut the door and leaned on the car for a minute, searching for the words that had been on the tip of her tongue. He leaned forward to see her better and she noticed his tie was undone messily and his shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Swallowing, she looked back up at his throat.

"Thanks," she said hoarsely, "For the ride, not the bourbon," she managed a smirk.

"Sleep it off," he told her smugly.

She slammed the door and crossed her arms watching him back out. She lifted her free hand to her head and rubbed her temples, half-wishing he'd tried to get her in bed.

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	15. The Boat in the Basement

_A/N: Thanks to aserene. Quotes from Season1Ep11 indicated Diane's the one who wielded the golf club:]_

_The title is a play on 'elephant in the room'_

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* * *

**

Jenny Shepard slammed the door of her car, looking up at the house in front of her with interest. His car was in the driveway, but the house was totally and completely dark. Hesitating slightly, Jenny flipped open the phone in her hand and read the time. He couldn't be asleep already; he'd only left the office an hour ago.

She didn't think Gibbs slept anyway.

She figured it couldn't hurt and pushed her hair back off of her face as she walked up to his door, glancing around for a doorbell. She raised her eyebrows slightly when she found it to the left of the door, disabled. She definitely had the right address then.

Jenny knocked, waited a decent amount of time, and knocked again, leaning against the wall outside of his door. She examined her nails, attempting to look casual, because honestly, she could have just left his phone on his desk for him tomorrow instead of driving to his house to return it.

But she didn't.

Jenny gave his door a withering look.

She reached out and turned the doorknob, mildly surprised when it turned easily and opened. Who in their right mind kept their doors unlocked at night in Washington, D.C.? She rolled her eyes and went in, shutting the door rather loudly behind her to announce her presence. Gibbs probably had some superiority complex that made him think he wouldn't get robbed or something.

Jenny blinked rapidly to adjust her eyesight to the darkness.

"Gibbs?" she called, walking forward. She'd only gone a few steps when she nearly killed herself on a box in the middle of the hallway. She cursed quietly as she caught herself and managed to avoid an ungraceful spill.

She hadn't really pegged him for a messy person, but the state of his hall, and subsequently his living room, said otherwise. There was stuff _everywhere_.

She thought she heard a thump to her right and turned her head, listening. She decided it wouldn't do any harm to follow the sounds of life since she'd already broken into his house _technically_; she flipped open the cell phone and held it out for its minute blue light.

Jenny turned into a cramped laundry room and flipped on the light. There was definitely thumping, and it was coming from the basement. She went through the doorway and was met with darkness again.

She was beginning to think Gibbs was secretly a vampire.

She watched her step like a hawk, only imagining his reaction if she fell down the stairs.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs did not look up from his boat. He'd heard her the moment she'd entered the house, he just hadn't known it was Jenny until she called his name.

"I knocked," she announced mildly.

"Door's open," he replied, bending his head for closer examination of the part of the boat he was currently sanding.

Jenny stopped on the landing at the bottom of the stairs, pausing before the last few stairs to the floor of the basement.

"Your house is a mess," she informed him, turning something over in her hand. "A box in the hallway tried to kill me."

"Security measure," he supplied, dropping the sander he had secured around his knuckles and leaning on the boat as he turned to look at her. She was looking at the boat with her eyebrows raised and her lips parted. He waited for the inevitable.

"Are you…is that a boat?" she asked on cue, transferring her eyes to him. Gibbs nodded slowly.

"And you're building it. In your basement." She continued patronizingly.

"No. I'm building it in the kitchen," he responded deadpan.

She made a face at him.

"Don't get smart with me. You're the one with a freakin' boat in your basement," she said, holding up the object in her hand. He recognized his cell phone and inwardly groaned. She was going to gloat over this for days.

"I thought I'd bring this over," she started, in exactly the condescending tone he expected, "you know, in case I need to reach you. It would be a shame for you to be _unreachable_."

She smirked and took the last few steps, walking across the basement to the workbench. Jenny set the cell phone down next to his open tool box and picked up a wrench, turning around and leaning back as she examined it casually.

Jethro watched her. She'd stayed at Headquarters later than him tonight, and mumbled a half-assed excuse about why. She was dressed in shorts and an NCIS t-shirt, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. Shockingly enough, she was wearing tennis shoes.

Courtesy told him he should say something, but he'd never been one for courtesy or for words. Hence the ex-wives. Women generally liked to talk. Diane would have already said a hundred things by now. That was where Jenny was different. Jenny liked to stare in that unnerving, sexy way.

He stopped his thoughts right there.

Jethro picked up the sander he'd abandoned and walked it over to the workbench, dropping it casually next to her. He dug out his coffee mug, dumped nuts and bolts out of a mason jar, drew his nearly empty bottle of bourbon towards him and poured the rest of it into the two make-shift glasses. He held out the jar towards her.

Jenny looked at and raised her eyebrow, glancing back at him. She reached past him and took the mug instead, narrowing her eyes at him. She didn't look away until after she took a defiant sip, still making a face at the taste.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she commented, "Basement, Boat, Bourbon. I caught you in your natural habitat," she quipped.

"That what you came to see?" he asked, leaning back in the corner of the counter and crossing his arms, the Mason jar still in his hand.

She lifted her shoulders mysteriously and didn't answer, finally looking away. He took a swig of his own drink, hardened to the taste and the effect by this time of night, and set the jar down as he picked up another tool and took it over to the boat.

"You know Kasey busted Decker for getting involved with that witness in his case," Jenny started, sounding grimly amused, "Morrow had his head on a platter for it."

Gibbs snorted, having heard the reply from Decker himself. Agent Kasey wasn't on anybody's good side right now. The relationship would have been fine if he could keep it under wraps until the case was over, but Kasey had blown it wide open for him.

"Yeah, well, that's why you learn Rule one the first day," Jethro said gruffly, anticipating her automatic reply with the rule itself.

"Never screw your partner," she said, "Over," she added quickly, her voice hitching slightly. "_Over_. Never screw your partner _over_,"

Jenny could have kicked herself for putting her foot in her mouth yet again.

She made sure to take a drink of the bourbon when he looked around at her. He walked over and switched out tools, standing in front of her. He reached past her to the tool box, standing closer than he should be. Jenny looked up at him wordlessly, unable to figure out what he was doing.

"Never screw over you partner," he corrected deliberately, smirking. He picked up his forgotten sander and slipped it over his knuckles, pulling another one out of the red box behind her and holding it out between them.

Jenny looked down at it and back up at him.

"Make yourself useful," he said, turning back to the boat.

She wondered if that was some kind of oblique Jethro-way of inviting her to stay and chat. Watching his back suspiciously, her cheeks still flushed from her slip-up, she slipped the sander he'd given her over her own hand after she set down her mug, staying put for a moment.

"This what you do every night?" she asked non-chalantly, adjusting the sander. It was too big for her small hands. "Sit in your basement drinking bourbon and playing with your toys?"

She flicked her eyes up to see if she'd gotten a rise out of him, but he just glanced at her with an annoying smirk.

"No wonder you're getting divorced," Jenny muttered loudly. She smiled sweetly at him this time and walked slowly forward towards the framework, looking it over.

It was good handiwork. She was impressed. Not to mention, she realized, it explained the curiously musky-woods smell he always had about him.

She felt her cheeks flush slightly again and hoped he wasn't looking at her. She ran her palm over part of the boat and traced her finger down the arches silently. He watched her cautiously as he sanded at the other end, glaring at her like he was afraid she'd break something.

Jenny continued walking around it, tilting her head leisurely.

"There a reason you're still here?" he asked without looking at her.

She looked up from her examination of his boat and watched him sanding, distracted slightly by the steady movement of his arms and the muscles rippling beneath his skin. She swallowed, fumbling for the answer she didn't really know.

"Want me to leave?" she asked instead.

Jethro looked up at her, his eyes guarded. He paused, then shrugged his shoulders and went back to sanding.

"Stay if you want," he offered gruffly.

Jenny smiled slightly and drew her hand down the boat again, walking back towards the stairs. She avoided a few nails sticking out of the framework.

"Why are you building a boat in your basement?" she asked wryly, lifting an eyebrow to herself.

"Therapeutic reasons," he answered promptly, his dry humor peeking through.

She started to tell him to get a life when her finger dragged against the wood and she gasped a curse, jerking her hand back with a hiss. His head snapped up.

"What did you do?" he asked accusingly.

She looked up at him, holding her finger, glaring.

"Splinter," she answered through gritted teeth, squinting at her pointer finger in the dark. She thought she saw blood, but couldn't quite tell. She tried to catch the tip of the sliver of wood sticking out with between her other thumb and forefinger, but it was too small.

"Jethro," she sighed in frustration, reluctant to ask for his help. She turned towards him without looking up and ran into him. Lifting her head, she scowled at him before she noticed the tweezers he held up in front of him.

He held out his hand and she gave him a suspicious look before she gave him hers, flipping it over and holding out the offended finger.

"I gave you a sander for a reason," he said in the same voice he'd used at the very beginning of her training when she'd done something he didn't like or didn't agree with. She rolled her eyes at him dramatically.

Jethro pressed his thumb into the center of her palm so she couldn't jerk her hand back and pinched the exposed end of the splinter with the tweezers. He didn't even have the manners to warn her before her jerked it out, roughly.

Jenny flinched violently and yanked her hand out of his grasp, hitting him reactively. He glared at her, and muttered under his breath something that sounded suspiciously like 'women'.

"Your bedside manner _sucks_," she admonished viciously, examining the few drops of blood on her fingertip.

In a decidedly not feminine action, she wiped her finger off on her shorts and glared at him in displeasure, pursing her lips.

Jethro smirked and watched her slant her eyes at him, unable to look away from the pout on her lips. Her hair had fallen more around her face, loose red curls framing it. Without thinking, without really noticing that he did it, he reached out and touched her shoulder, drawing her closer. She stumbled a little, looking up at him, her lips parting irresistibly like they had on the catwalk weeks ago.

It was late and he'd had too much bourbon and he sure as hell wasn't thinking sober, but she was looking back at him with a glint in her eye that dared him to act on what he was thinking. And really, in the dark basement, alone, he couldn't think of anything to stop him from acting. She certainly wasn't stopping him. Was that her hand touching his neck? He bent forward minutely, blocking anything that could possibly deter him from what they were about to do out.

"_Jethro_," Jenny said, and he swore she sounded angry with him from some reason.

Inconvenient as ever, the only thing that _could_ interrupt's heels clicked on the linoleum upstairs. Jenny's muscles tensed under his hand and her eyes widened slightly.

"You should probably hide," Jethro informed her with a grimace, releasing her shoulder. Her hand, which had in fact been on his neck, slipped off quickly and she flexed her fingers and stepped back, turning and leaning against the boat.

She looked guilty, and Jethro was willing to bet the damn boat she was going to look a lot guiltier in the next few minutes.

He hardly had time to distance himself from Jenny when his favorite person showed up at the top of his stairs and glanced at him dismissively, an annoyed look on her face.

"I didn't expect you to be here," she snapped, as if he'd already started in on her, "You were never home when I was, but of course you'd start now that—"she stopped on the landing, as Jenny had.

Diane had spotted Jenny.

Jethro resisted the urge to run away as his soon-to-be-ex-wife paused and let her hand fall from the railing to her side, glaring at Jenny intently. Slowly, she turned her head towards him, her brown eyes flashing. She lifted her am and pointed at Jenny.

"_She's_ 'working late'?" she asked sharply, throwing his excuse back in his face.

"Diane," he said shortly, trying to stop her before she pissed off Jenny.

Diane held up the hand to stop him speaking and shook her head.

"Don't tell me _she's_ what you've been _doing_ when you're supposed to be working late!" she yelled shrilly, raising her voice.

He saw Jenny's features shift dangerously out of the corner of his eye and wondered if he had any chance at all of running damage control over this situation.

"Jenny's my partner," he said stiffly.

"Your _partner_? Yes, I'm sure 'Jenny' is your _partner_," Diane retorted scathingly, throwing a vicious look at the other redhead. She rounded on Jenny. "You realize he's married, honey? Or are you a home wrecker by choice?"

"Separated," Jenny responded tightly.

"What?" Diane snapped.

"Separated," Jenny repeated, meeting Diane's steely glare. "And I don't appreciate the way you're talking to me."

Diane made a noise of outrage and whipped around to Jethro, her eyes blazing now.

"I want to know what the _hell's_ been going on, Jethro," she demanded coldly.

"Other than you walking in uninvited?" he responded.

"With _her_!" Diane shrieked, throwing her finger out at Jenny again.

He stared at her in disbelief, not even sure why she was here. It was after midnight, what the hell was she doing showing up at the house after practically dropping off the planet for two weeks.

"This isn't the time, Di—"

"It's now or never, Jethro," she interrupted coldly, her eyes flicking from Jenny and back to him. She smiled sardonically. "Your little slut can join in on the _fun_,"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," Jenny snarled, starting forward.

Diane hardly flinched. She laughed and shook her head.

"Oh grow up, honey. I know _damn_ well he can't keep his hands off a pretty redhead and with your legs, well," she snorted derisively and raked her eyes over Jenny to demean her, "I highly doubt you two spent your time doing _paperwork_."

"Let me tell you something _honey," _Jenny snapped back mockingly, "Jethro hasn't laid a _hand_ on me, and I haven't so much as touched your _husband_ the wrong way. I'm his partner, nothing—"

"And I'm supposed to believe _you_?" Diane interrupted loudly. "Why? You're the woman sitting in his basement at an ungodly hour!" she nearly shrieked.

"Diane, If I'd slept with Jethro he wouldn't be able to remember your _name_ after I was through," she hissed fiercely, her tone all suggestion and incendiary words.

Diane's eyes widened in outrage at the slight.

Jethro, having been able to do nothing but watch disaster unfold, decided this was the moment to intercede—before they started to claw each other's eyes out. He'd already seen Jenny's hand slip to her waist in reflex for her SIG.

Thank god she didn't have it on her.

"_Diane_," he said gruffly, chucking the tweezers onto the counter and intercepting quickly. He took Diane firmly by her upper arm and turned her towards him.

"You _bitch_," snapped Diane, directing her insult at Jenny.

"Harpy," Jenny retorted promptly, narrowing her eyes dangerously.

"Jen," Gibbs said sharply, turning an icy glare on her, "Not helping."

He pulled Diane up the stairs with him, fighting with her in a low voice.

Jenny watched them go with a scowl on her face, listening as the fighting escalated when they reached the top of the stairs.

She turned swiftly, trying to block out Diane's shouts and, interestingly enough, Jethro's as well. She'd only ever heard him yell to intimidate a suspect; his arguments with people never consisted of raised voices. He never got out of control. She picked up the neglected mug of bourbon and downed the rest of it, ignoring the burn in her eyes and throat.

She didn't know what had almost happened before Diane walked in, and she wasn't sure what _would_ have happened if she hadn't. She shouldn't even be here, she should have left his god forsaken phone at the office and teased him about it tomorrow, but her curiosity and other mixed feelings pushed her to show up on his doorstep.

He'd started it. He pulled her closer. She just didn't protest. Maybe she should have.

There was a thud and a crash from upstairs and Jethro shouted something that sounded like a warning. Jenny raised her eyes to the ceiling as a door slammed loudly and footsteps sounded on the floor upstairs.

She heard Jethro cursing violently in a way that would make every Marine in America proud and turned around restlessly just as he started back down the stairs. He flipped a light switch on and a bulb lit up behind her, throwing dusty light on the basement.

He swung off the last few stairs with a grimace, and Jenny's eyes went immediately to the dishtowel he was holding against the side of his head.

"What the hell did she _do_?" Jenny asked, starting forward.

Jethro pushed past her without a word and opened a drawer, pulling out a box with first aid materials in it. He shuffled through it hurriedly and jerked out a bottle of half-full antiseptic and a few more cloths. Slowly, he pulled the dishtowel away from his head, and Jenny gasped at the amount of blood.

"Oh my god," she muttered, taking the bloody dishtowel and setting it aside. He gave her a dark look as she picked up the nearest towel and pressed it against the gash in the side of his head, applying pressure to stop the bleeding.

"Should we—"

"No," he interrupted shortly, "Ducky can take a look tomorrow."

Jenny bit her lip and nodded, putting her hand on the other side of his head and pressing it into her palm and the cloth. He winced, but didn't say anything.

"What did she hit you with?" she ventured, pulling back the cloth a little to peek. She switched hands and picked up the antiseptic, unscrewing the top with her mouth.

"Golf club," he muttered.

Jenny couldn't help it. She laughed.

He glared menacingly at her as she pulled the towel away, trying to swallow her giggles, and poured the antiseptic on it. She put it back to his head, wiping the blood away gently so she could see the wound better.

He jerked away when the antiseptic touched the cut and she paused, raising her eyebrow.

"Baby," she accused lightly.

He mumbled a protest and leaned back, scowling. She went back to cleaning the nasty cut, deciding Diane was more formidable than she initially looked.

Jethro winced away again, probably without realizing it, and she took pity on him this time and didn't tease.

"Sorry," she said instead.

"Don't _apologize_," he snapped predictably.

Jenny rolled her eyes in full view of him and pressed the rag harder into his head.

"I was taught it takes the better person to apologize," she said quietly, thinking about her father. She swallowed the feelings down.

"No," Jethro corrected quietly, "in work, you don't apologize because if you make a mistake, you fix it, you don't ask for forgiveness or pity. In life apologies are for people who say what they mean and then can't deal with the consequences. An apology is taking it back. You only apologize if you really regret what you said or did. Other than that, it's a sign of weakness."

Jenny stared at his head. Not only did it make complete sense explained that way, she was reeling from the sheer number of words he'd just come out with in one sentence.

"Are you feeling okay?" she joked half-heartedly.

"Ex-wife hit me with a seven iron," he responded sarcastically. "I feel _fine_."

Jenny snorted.

She dropped the cloth in her hand back on the workbench and examined his head closer, looking at the cut.

"You might need stitches," she informed him.

He groaned.

"You need a doctor," she tried half-heartedly.

"Ducky can do it," he insisted.

"With coroner's twine?" Jenny scoffed, slightly disgusted with the idea. "It'll do more damage than good, Jethro."

"He's done it before," Jethro placated, reaching to the side of her fro his Mason jar of bourbon.

"Minor injuries, yeah, he's patched us all up, but stitches?"

"You're being annoying," he pointed out, taking a long drink with his eyes closed. Jenny stopped.

She remained silent for a moment, leaning back against the counter.

"I don't like Diane," she said darkly, with nothing better to say.

"She hates you," he responded bluntly.

Jenny pressed her lips together while he downed the rest of his drink. She dropped her head into her hands and tucked her hair behind her ears, angry with the situation she'd put herself in. Maybe Diane was the last straw.

"Everyone thinks we're sleeping together," she said through gritted teeth, looking up and over at him. He turned his head, squinting up at her wordlessly. "Diane takes one look at me and that's the first thing that comes to her mind," she paused, "do you get the feeling we're missing something?" she vented, frustrated.

He shifted and studied her face.

Jenny glared at him.

"Maybe we should just go ahead and fucking do it," she snapped, pushing herself off of the counter without a second look.

She swallowed hard, angry with herself now for letting her smart mouth get the better of her, and left him in the basement with his bourbon and his boat.

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	16. Covert

__

A/N: Thanks to aserene!

**

* * *

**

Jenny Shepard sat outside of a café in Manassas, Virginia, absentmindedly playing with the straw of her iced tea. She flipped a page in the magazine in front of her, looking intently at the words without reading them, her elbow propped on the table next to her. Behind her dark sunglasses, she watched the scattered customers and people on the streets casually, looking like nothing more than a bored socialite with nothing better to do than sit in the sun and read fashion magazines all day.

The everyday person wouldn't know she had a small communication device attached to the sleeve of her light sweater and was wearing an ear-wig. They definitely wouldn't know she had a gun strapped to her leg under her dress, or that she knew how to use it. To them she was a silent observer.

Jenny picked up her glass of tea and twirled the straw in it, taking a sip. She looked down into the liquid and watched it swirl, holding her wrist closer to her mouth.

"He's moving this way," she said quietly.

"Keep him in sight," Gibbs' voice answered, and Jenny lowered her glass back to the table. She leaned forward, putting her head lightly in her palm as she bent over the magazine, her eyes tilted slightly towards the sidewalk and street where she could see their guy walking.

"Is he meeting someone at the café?" another voice questioned in her ear, and she paused, watching to see what the guy would do.

The blonde waitress taking care of the outside seating blocked her view wiping off a table and she hissed a silent curse, leaning back slightly as if she were stretching. The man she watched glanced towards the café briefly, then passed it.

"Negative," she muttered as an answer, leaning to the side this time to try and see around the waitress.

If that girl got in the way anymore Jenny was going to give herself away rubbernecking.

"He's headed your way, Gibbs," she informed her partner, watching the guy turn down a different street. He acknowledged that he'd heard her with a snort and she rolled her eyes at him, relaxing her position a little.

She turned, picking up her ice tea again, and squinted her eyes across the street to the hotel suites they were keeping an eye on. She could barely make out Agent Decker on the sidewalk outside of the hotel, probably sweltering in his business suit, playing a businessman who was ever on his phone.

This was their third day operating in Manassas on this case, their second week handling it. It was a tangled mess and they weren't sure what they were dealing with. Director Morrow had switched Agent Decker to their team instead of Burly since he and Gibbs' had decided to treat it as a covert OP—though Jenny wasn't sure why. Not that she was complaining; she was more than happy to have Stan go away.

She'd spent three days lounging in this café looking like someone's trophy wife while she watched both the Marine they were working with to unravel this and the man they'd fixated on. The target she was currently watching, or had been until he became Gibbs' problem, was thought to be the messenger/runner for the big guys, loan sharks, they were dealing with

"Are you doin' all right, Miss?"

Jenny looked up at the blonde waitress who'd blocked her view, flashing a small smile. The woman smiled back brightly, and didn't budge when Jenny waved her off.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked helpfully, with a southern twang.

"No, thanks," Jenny replied.

Blonde waitress nodded and walked off to continue wiping empty tables—tables Jenny was convinced were already clean. She gave the woman a second glance, memorized her facial features just in case, and turned back to the magazine she had in front of her, flipping a few pages in boredom.

"Update, Gibbs," Decker's voice muttered in her ear.

"Met with a woman 'round back of the Suites," answered Gibbs voice, sounding muffled. Jenny had to strain to hear.

"The wife we're lookin' for?" Decker asked.

"Nah," Gibbs responded, "He slipped her cash, exchanged information or something, kissed her cheek, and is watching her leave."

"Contact?" Decker asked. He snorted. "Or hooker?"

"Hooker," Gibbs answered. Decker laughed and Jenny rolled her eyes again.

"In broad daylight?" she hissed.

"How do you know?" Decker asked.

"Shoulda seen the outfit," Gibbs responded.

Both men chuckled.

"Between watching her ass and her chest, did you manage to watch where she _went_?" snapped Jenny, probably a little louder than she should have.

She glanced around her, letting out a breath of relief that the waitress had disappeared back into the café. She missed hearing what Decker said, and probably was lucky for it, because he made himself laugh. Decker had more of a sailor's vocabulary on a regular basis than Gibbs did when he was really angry.

And Gibbs had been in what seemed like a constant state of angry lately. She didn't know what was going on; she'd hardly spoke a word that didn't pertain to the case to him since she'd practically yelled at him that she wanted to sleep with him. She knew, by ways of observation and casual eavesdropping, Diane had flipped the lid after catching Jenny in the basement and was raising hell. Things just seemed more awkward now. Like they were walking on eggshells or someting.

""Ya sure I can't get ya anything else, Miss? It's mighty hot," Jenny startled slightly as the waitress reappeared and resisted the urge to snap angrily at her.

"A little peace would be nice," she said. So being nice went out the window.

The woman didn't miss a beat. She nodded and placed Jenny's check on the table before walking off to another table where people were probably more receptive to her. Jenny raised her eyebrow to the check, getting the feeling Blonde Waitress was trying to get rid of her.

"The waitress is harassing me," she muttered into her wrist as she adjusted her hair, gritting her teeth.

"Deal with it," Gibbs responded sharply.

Jenny raised her eyes down the street and, though he was out of sight, glared in the direction he was supposed to be.

"Hey, Deck," Gibbs said suddenly, his voice alert again. "He's coming around the building. Tail him if he goes back down your way," he ordered slowly, "Jenny, you watch him if he circles back to the café."

"Got him in sights," Decker announced. Jenny stretched and put her arm behind her on the chair, turning slightly towards the streets. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gibbs come out of an alleyway, a ball cap pulled low on his head. He leaned against the wall of a building and feigned lighting up a cigarette.

"On his tail," Decker informed them.

"Watch 'im," Gibbs ordered. Jenny picked up her glass to have something to do with her hands, waiting for further instruction.

"Jenny, I want you to run a check out in the hotel," Gibbs said, "pretend you're checking in. Ask about clientele,"

"That's not suspicious at _all_, Jethro," she muttered sarcastically.

"Well, Shepard, be subtle about it. You're good at that," he snapped.

She scowled, unsure of the meaning of his last statement, and took her time uncrossing her legs and folding up her magazine. Jenny stood up, pushing her chair in, and turned—only to run into Blonde Waitress as she carried a tray towards the other edge of the patio.

Jenny squeaked in surprise as the tray tipped and she dropped her tea, not only shattering glass all over the concrete but also ending up covered in what looked like lemonade. She closed her eyes and cursed violently under her breath as the device on her wrist popped on her skin, informing her it had short-circuited.

"Oh, honey, I am so sorry—my, I'm so clumsy, always have been, here, come with me—"

The woman took Jenny's arm gently and tugged slightly, but Jenny held her ground and held up her hands, shaking her head, trying to keep control of her tone.

"Its fine, I'm _fine_. Don't worry about it," she said, shaking her head. The woman's grip tightened.

"I really insist you come with me," she said, lowering her voice.

Jenny paused and raised her eyebrow, narrowing her eyes. It would be unwise to pull out her gun in the middle of these people and announce NCIS' presence to their suspect. Clearly, the spill hadn't been an accident. Jenny could have kicked herself for not paying more attention to the waitress; she shouldn't have assumed their guy didn't have an accomplice even if he was a low-level runner.

She wondered if Gibbs could see what was going on from his position.

"Hang on, circling around: Your man, Jenny," Decker's voice muttered in her ear.

_Crap_.

"You need to let me go," Jenny said quietly, pulling her arm back slightly, glaring at the other woman meaningfully. "Preferably now."

"I'd rather not," she responded lightly, moving her short apron aside a little with her free hand to reveal a gun concealed very well. Jenny cursed again.

That just wasn't fair, flashing a weapon. Jenny couldn't flash hers without the possibility of an indecent exposure charge, and that would just be pad press. She smirked slightly and slowly set her magazine down on the table, nodding to the woman.

Blonde waitress relaxed her hold slightly and led Jenny off the patio through a small gate, pulling her into the alley where the side exit of the cafe was located. When they were out of sight of the general public eye, the woman snatched Jenny's hands behind her back and pushed her up against the wall.

"You're under arrest for obstruction of an investigation," she barked in Jenny's ear.

Jenny actually laughed.

"Are you _kidding_ me?" she couldn't help but ask, snorting. Well, at least a cop and not some crazy bitch with a grudge was holding her up.

She heard a snap and a black and gold badge flashed before her eyes. The woman, who was clearly not a waitress, turned Jenny around and held her firmly. Jenny wasn't exactly struggling or she could have slipped the hold easily.

"Haven't seen the likes of ya around these parts recently," the woman snapped, twisting Jenny's wrist.

Jenny rolled her eyes just slightly disrespectfully.

"Who are you?"

"Who's asking?" Jenny snapped back mockingly. She had a right to know which cops she was dealing with if she was going to cooperate even a little.

"Detective Lila Vickery, Virginia P.D.," answered Blonde Cop.

Jenny smirked.

"Agent Jenny Shepard, NCIS," she shot back, smiling at the uncertain look that fell over the other girl's face.

"Close your eyes a minute and I'll fish out my badge," she added with a small smile.

* * *

Gibbs was furious. Jenny could see it in his eyes and the way he said even less than usual and just generally glared evilly at everyone.

She leaned against the wall in the stock room of the cute little café, having easily convinced Lila Vickery she was legit. Of course, this meant sharing information with local LEOs, which Gibbs hated, and possibly sharing an investigation, since they already had a person undercover—which Gibbs also hated.

Jenny was pretty sure he hated her right now. It was a disconcerting feeling.

"How did you give yourself away?" he barked at her, putting his hands on the old table in the middle of the room and glaring at her menacingly.

Bristling, Jenny glared back, indignant and offended.

"Any good agent or detective working a case for months would be suspicious about a woman who shows up out of the blue and sits on her turf three days straight," she lashed back.

She was right, and he knew it. They hadn't counted on Virginia P.D., or anyone for that matter, being in the middle of something when they went into Manassas. That was their mistake, though Gibbs would never concede that. Any other time, she wouldn't either; arrogance and pride would prevent it. But at the moment, he was attacking her competence, and pride was going to kick his ass.

"Ah, it wasn't anything obvious," Lila Vickery said, brushing something off of her pants. She shrugged and smiled, "I just saw Agent Shepard here react to something, like someone had said something."

Jenny scowled at Gibbs.

"Guess it's _your_ fault then," she snapped.

"Laying blame won't solve a damn thing, Shepard," Gibbs snapped back.

"Surely you don't want me to apologize!" Jenny railed sardonically. He stood up, his eyes darkening, and Decker intervened.

"Er, not that this isn't…well, _hilarious_, but," he stopped, letting them finish the thought themselves.

Jenny relaxed back against the wall and looked away, swallowing her words. Gibbs turned and paced away, his back to them.

"All right, so what are Navy Cops botherin' about in little Manassas?" Lila asked, breaking the brief tense silence.

Gibbs answered before Jenny could, ignoring the Detective's question and turning on her.

"What've you got on Toby Chuck?" he asked, leaning close to her almost like he did a suspect.

"Ferret?" Lila asked, scooting back a little. She flinched under Gibbs' gaze and transferred her eyes to Decker instead.

"Ferret?" Decker repeated, lifting an eyebrow.

"'S what we call 'im down at the precinct," she clarified, smiling slightly, "Weasel-like little thing, always creepin' around. All we 'got' on him is two counts of possession, couple solicitation counts, and one assault charge, all dropped on account of circumstance."

Lila shrugged, looking annoyed. Gibbs didn't look satisfied at all.

"No reasons to scout him like you've been doing," he pointed out sharply. "What've you got?" he repeated darkly.

"I don't guess you're gonna ask like a gentleman?" Lila asked half-heartedly, looking a little unnerved.

Jenny stifled a snort. Once she'd gotten past Lily trying to arrest her, she'd taken an immediate liking to the Detective. It was a tiny bit disappointing that Gibbs' bad-ass intimidation tactics worked on her.

Lila frowned a little at Gibbs and pushed her blonde hair back nervously, turning her eyes towards Jenny this time to avoid his angry glower.

"We've _got_ a colossal drug problem," she started, "and it's taken us a few years to narrow down who's the supplier, who's the runner, the usual. Ferret's our drug ring-leader, that much we've got. I've been running Op down here trying to catch leads on his big time suppliers—"

"You can't have been with V.P.D long," Gibbs interrupted flippantly.

Lila looked at him like she was considering yelling at him. Jenny could see why. Gibbs had clearly taken a dig at her experience with that comment, practically calling her unaware of street ways.

"Two years," she said shortly, "And I'm twenty-seven, if you're gonna ask."

Jenny smiled and raised an eyebrow at Gibbs, daring him to call her young or inexperienced and suffer the consequences. He knew Jenny herself wasn't much older.

"I specialize in covert narcotics; it's all I do so I'm pretty good. Fantastic if you ask me, but I'm biased," she continued to smart off.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her.

"I think I've done a good job of compromising my operation, Agent Gibbs, you gonna return the favor?" she asked.

He straightened up and stood back, shifting hard eyes to Jenny and Decker. Jenny nodded her head barely at him. She saw an advantage in Lila Vickery where he probably saw a nuisance and roadblock to his way of doing things.

Lila looked between them, and leaned forward, hesitating slightly. She slid her gun forward on the table and let go of it.

"A'right," she breathed out, her southern accent coming through stronger, "Three Navy Cops in Manassas, undercover, watchin' Ferret," she listed what she knew and looked up at them, her eyes shrewd, "I ain't stupid. You know somethin' I don't?"

Decker threw a look at Gibbs that Gibbs didn't get.

"Yeah," he said roughly, "Your petty drug dealer's a low-level runner for an unidentified crime ring we've got for the murder of a U.S marine and the kidnapping of three military dependents,"

Lila's eyes widened perceptibly and she straightened up.

"Crime ring? In Manassas?" she sounded shell-shocked. "What kind of stuff?"

"We don't know," Jenny spoke up, drawing the Detective's attention to her, "we've got sketchy details, covered trails, and unreliable informants to go on."

Lily bit her lip and nodded, looking at them all.

"What're ya lookin' at?" she asked, referring to the case.

Gibbs' eyes flicked to Jenny and she continued as he turned around and walked off, drawing out his cell phone. She had no idea who he was calling.

"We got involved in a case with a dead Marine two weeks ago," Jenny began, pulling out a chair and sitting down. "His service time was up and he was back from Iraq, been back about two months when we got him. We looking into the wife primarily, because of her attitude, turns out it wasn't what we thought,"

Jenny glanced at Decker and he nodded in confirmation, glancing behind him to watch Gibbs at the other end of the stockroom, speaking quietly into his phone.

"She got involved with a loan shark while he was deployed, she and a friend. It's been hard as hell, but we've pieced together enough information to lead us to your 'Ferret' as the go-between man. The wife, her friend, and a teenage daughter disappeared four days ago, and we started here. We've got the friend's husband—he's marine, too—helping by remaining as if nothing had happened, still trying to deal with it by himself like he and his buddy had before the other guy was murdered."

Jenny was vague with details as she would be with anyone not deeply involved with the investigation, but Lila didn't seem to mind. She took it all in with rapt attention and glanced between them with a thoughtful look on her face.

"The only dependents missing were women?" she asked hesitantly.

Jenny's brow furrowed.

"Yeah," she answered slowly.

Lily looked at her, a worried look flitting across her face.

"We've had a few girls—not in Manassas, but in neighboring counties, one up in Georgetown, even—disappear. Usually girls in trouble, girls on drugs, you know the like. And..." Lily hesitated, and Decker stepped closer, tilting his head.

"You're not thinking—" he started

"We've had a spike in prostitution lately," Lily said grimly, "The number of girls I've seen walkin's been a lot more lately, and solicitation charges are up."

Decker looked to Jenny and she swallowed, pushing herself out of her chair.

"Gibbs thought it was Mafia related," she muttered, musing out loud.

"Still might be," Decker responded, looking to Lila, "or it could be sex trade, with the loan sharks being a way to lure them in.

Lila swallowed. Jenny pushed herself back from the table and folded her arms, a sour taste in her mouth. They'd have to rope 'Ferret' in now, get him to talk. They couldn't wait around for days with something as potentially explosive as this. They'd also have to re-negotiate what their Marine assistant in the whole case was willing to risk or do to get his wife, daughter and his buddy's wife back.

"We've gotta trap—"

"—Ferret,"

Lila finished Jenny's sentence for her, with a small smile.

"How do we do it?" Decker asked.

Gibbs appeared behind him, snapping his phone shut, and gave Jenny a glare she felt she didn't deserve before he switched it to Lila.

"You're working with us," he informed her gruffly, "stay out of the way unless we need you." He turned to Decker and Jenny, "We're going back to D.C.—you too," he added, jerking his hand at Lila and beckoning.

"We should use Detective Vickery's precinct as headquarters," Jenny interrupted.

"Broadcast Navy presence in a small town? You lost your mind, Jenny?" he retorted.

She swallowed her remark.

"We need to re-strategize, Jethro," she said quietly, trying not to provoke him anymore than he was clearly trying to provoke her.

"Nah, you haven't jeopardized this mission that badly," he answered.

"Whoa, hey now," Decker muttered, putting up his hands.

Taken aback and hurt by the insult, Jenny's eyes widened slightly before she could control herself and tighten her features. She started to snap back at him, and realized with disgust that she didn't trust herself to speak without her voice shaking. She hated his disapproval.

"Dammit, Gibbs," she cursed, fueling her voice with anger.

She turned her back on him and Decker and shoved her hair back out of her face, looking at Lila with a tight face that wasn't directed at the Detective. Swallowing, she spoke to Lila instead of her partner and Decker; she heard Decker half-mumble part of what they'd found out from Lila in a timid voice.

"What do you think's the best way?" she asked the blonde woman.

Lily smiled grimly, shrugging her shoulders with a slight twinkle in her grey eyes.

"Ferret does like his hookers," she said with a slight shrug. "Who's puttin' on the gaudy pumps and fishnets? You or me?" she asked, her lips quirking up.

Jenny turned slightly, standing in the middle of Lila and Gibbs, her look determined and steely. She fired her next question at him angrily and suggestively, hoping to God it either pissed him off or made him incredibly uncomfortable. Either was fine.

"You think I can get a man to talk in a miniskirt?"

* * *

_XOXO_

_Alexa_


	17. Undercover

_A/N: thanks to aserene!_

**

* * *

**

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was only a team player when it came to _his_ team. He did not like other people's teams because they were idiots. He hadn't liked being assigned Decker for this case because he hadn't worked with Decker previously; but he'd warmed up to the idea after Decker proved himself to be better than Burly at this kind of work.

Detective Lila's Vickery's Police Chief was an okay guy, Gibbs decided. He held his ground, made sure his people got to keep their girl in the operation, and then stepped back and let NCIS do their job. He probably smartly realized their resources were far greater than his own, and his community would benefit if NCIS succeeded and Lila was right about what they might be dealing with.

Gibbs sat at one of the empty desks in the police station, quietly watching the hustle and bustle of a slow day. It seemed Manassas' biggest problem, as Lila had said, was drugs.

"Here you go, Gibbs," Decker announced, holding out a cup of coffee to the older man.

Gibbs took it with a nod of thanks and kicked a chair out for Decker to take a seat.

'Where's Shepard?" Decker asked, looking around.

Gibbs pointed to the back where he could see Lila's blonde head through some glass that led into a storage room. Decker craned his neck, only able to see Lila as well. He turned back to Gibbs and furrowed his brow.

"Costume," Gibbs said shortly.

Decker nodded in understanding and drank his own coffee, content to remain silent. He wasn't too keen on trying to make conversation with Agent Gibbs, primarily because the senior agent was in a bad mood.

"You think it could be sex trade?" Decker asked quietly.

"Hard to believe," Gibbs responded after a moment, his eyes still on the back room.

"Which is why you believe it," Decker said, noting the look in his eye. Gibbs nodded.

It made sense in a strangely frightening way. Europe was rampant with the sex trade and trafficking rings where in the States things like that flew low under the radar and were hardly thought about. When they were discovered, it was in dirty busy cities, not quiet little Virginia towns.

That, and only women had been kidnapped. The woman whose husband had been killed trying to deal with her loan shark mess himself was Shelley Crance. She had been evasive and hysterical through their preliminary investigation before her neighbors and close friends had stepped in and told the story.

Gunnery Sergeant Logan Burnett and his wife Gemma had told them about the guys who'd roped Shelley and Gemma in, loaning them more money than they could ever pay back and promising them easy interest rates. On a whim, they'd demanded repayment, which the women didn't have. Then the story was lost. Gemma didn't seem to know anymore, and Shelley would clam up and refuse to speak. Their husbands had been trying to 'handle' it themselves. Shelley Crance's husband ended up dead.

Gibbs reached up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. It made _sense_. If the crime lords were luring these women into the sex trade to pay back loans…it would explain Shelley Crance's ashamed silence and the kidnapping of Gemma Burnett and her daughter. _Payment_.

"Agent Gibbs?"

He looked up when the Police Chief called his name, holding out a file.

"That right there is everything we've got on Ferret, or Toby Chuck. Lila's just requesting she gets the interrogation when you bring him in, since she doesn't get the fun of trapping him. That's her favorite part," the Chief winked at Decker and Gibbs took the file, flipping through it.

"You got anything here on the Manassas Suites?" Gibbs asked gruffly, looking up.

The Chief's brow furrowed slightly, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Fancy place, where the rich type stay when they want an out of the way place. The massive suite on the sixth floor had fir damage last year, and has been closed since—"

"Out of use? Accessible?" Gibbs prompted, sitting up straighter.

"Well, I…they don't rent it out," fumbled the Chief.

Gibbs looked at Decker.

"I'll see what I can find about that while Shepard's getting Ferret," he said, reading Gibbs' look effortlessly. He had a thought suddenly, and turned to the Chief.

"You think we could get files, or news clippings, whatever, on the missing girls Detective Vickery mentioned? Just to check circumstances, see if there's a lure?"

"No need," Decker recognized Jenny's voice from behind him and turned slightly. "I got them."

Jenny held up a stack of papers to show him, but the action was completely lost on him. His eyes went straight to her chest and he stared. Blatantly.

Jethro Gibbs nearly dropped his coffee.

He didn't even have the focus to slap Decker on the back of the head for pretty much sexually harassing her with his eyes because, frankly, he was too busy doing it himself.

There was no way she was concealing a SIG under _that_ skirt. Even in boots that zipped a third of the way up her calves, her legs went on for miles. Her arms and shoulders were bare, her so-called shirt exposing a toned stomach, cut low at the top. She—or Lila, he didn't know which one was more out to get him right now—had tossed her hair in a way that made her look like she'd been in bed all day.

Which just brought a whole slew of thoughts to the forefront of his mind.

_Maybe we should just go ahead and fucking do it._

He swallowed.

Lila giggled.

Jenny swung her stack of papers up and brought them down on Decker's head. He jumped and shook his head, turning red and stammering some muttered excuse.

"Don't hurt them, Jenny; they can't overcome natural instinct," Lila snorted, turning her eyes on her own starstruck police chief. "They're just boys."

She snickered and turned, going across the small aisle to her own desk. She leaned over it and started messing with stuff, finally pulling out a make-up bag and throwing it to Jenny. She glanced up and did a double take, watching the rest of her precinct.

"Ain't ya'll ever seen a girl before?" she barked.

They started working immediately.

Gibbs jolted himself out of his haze and stood up; placing his coffee on the desk they were using and taking the files from Jenny. He handed them to Decker and motioned for the other man to start looking through them. He gave Jenny a once over and looked around at the rest of the precinct.

He didn't like the way these guys were looking at her. Like NCIS, the employees of Virginia P.D. were predominantly male, but no man at NCIS would have the guts to stare at Jenny Shepard the way these men were—however secretly they went about it. He momentarily forgot he'd been looking at her the same way five seconds ago and fought down the urge to blind and torture everyone else in the building.

He grabbed Jenny's wrist and pulled her backwards with him beyond Decker, standing a ways off from the rest of the cops in the precinct towards the wall. She jerked her wrist back with a glare. Decker glanced up at them like he was their babysitter and looked back down when met with Gibbs' glare.

"You're not going out there—"

"Dressed like a tramp?" she interrupted mockingly. "You sound like my mother. Go to hell, Gibbs, I don't need you to protect my modesty," she hissed sarcastically, keeping her voice to a minimum.

"_Unarmed_," he finished through gritted teeth as if she'd never said a thing.

He hadn't been kidding, thinking the skirt left no room for a concealed SIG. It _barely_ concealed everything else, and that was giving him enough problems without having to think about her on the street with some criminal sans weapon.

Her hard look faltered.

"How do you know I'm not armed?" she asked.

He just gave her a look.

"You think I can't do this? I fought off Soto in _heels_, unarmed," she protested.

"Because you were stupid and green and you ran off without your weapon," he growled, "you're _still_ a junior agent. You don't leave a weapon behind by choice, and not if we're dealing with what Detective Vickery thinks we are," he snapped.

He shuddered to think what a trafficking ring would do with Jenny if they got her.

"You're worried," she stated, cooling down a little. She watched him remain silent and still glare at her, and her annoyance flared back up again. "God you're a chauvinist," she snapped quietly.

He looked at her, taken aback.

"You think I don't stand a chance against a _man_ without a weapon," she hissed, lowering her voice again when Decker looked up once more. "You don't want to put a female in danger; you don't think I should be out there exposed like this—you think it should be _you_. You wanna wear the miniskirt, Gibbs?"

He ignored her comments because they were half true. Except the one about him wearing a miniskirt. Her ability to defend herself was hampered in those clothes and the ridiculous shoes Lila had on her.

Gibbs reached out and tapped her ear, feeling the earwig.

"Don't take him down until I have you _in sight_," he ordered harshly, giving in against the screams of his better judgment.

Her eyes flickered with something that passed quickly. He waited for her to confirm. Finally, she nodded shortly and he relaxed a little. She didn't give her word lightly and he trusted her.

Gibbs started to go before the proximity of her scantily clad and eyes bright with anger, could affect him more than it already had. She laid a hand on his arm and stopped him, opening her mouth grudgingly and relenting a little.

"I've got a blade," she informed him shortly.

He determinedly did not look for where it might be.

"Rule nine's my second favorite," she added, with a small smirk.

* * *

Dim, dirty street lamps lit up the broken down part of town, a few miles south of the Manassas Suites. Where the nicer part of the city was asleep and peaceful this time of night, this older, beaten down half was alive and seething with troublemakers and lawbreakers.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs watched his junior agent from the shadows; just close enough to watch everyone who passed her in a ten-foot radius, distanced as much as possible so he couldn't be connected with her. He didn't know where Detective Lila Vickery was; he knew she had Jenny in sight from the whispered confirmation in his ear wig.

Jenny blended herself well with the few other trashy looking streetwalkers, the only difference being the more confident, strong way she held herself. That, and she walked better in heels. She was already attracting more than enough attention from people who weren't the Ferret, and Gibbs didn't like it one bit.

He was tense and anxious with her doing this unarmed. To him it didn't matter that she had a knife; if someone pinned her hands the right way she wouldn't be able to get to it. He'd rather her look suspiciously like a cop and distract Ferret for seconds than _this_.

She wasn't wired, either; she couldn't call for help. She had to remain in their sights or they might not know she was distressed. Wires had been impossible with her little clothing, so all she had on her was an earwig so he could let her know when to act.

"Ferret approaching Shepard," Lila's southern twang muttered in his ear and he crouched from where he was, deeper into shadows, watching.

The man they'd been tailing for days now appeared on the streets, greeted by a few urchins, greeted by _quite_ a few whores. He looked at ease, comfortable; suggesting he'd been here before. He looked just as at home as he did in the good part of town as he stationed himself at a lamppost near a bar and leaned against it, lighting up a cigarette.

Jenny was subtle and graceful in her approach. She didn't look too eager or like she'd picked him out. She leaned over, almost hugging onto him, and spoke. In return, Ferret reached into his pocket, handed her a cigarette, and lit up.

Gibbs knew Jenny _hated_ cigarettes. She hated them and people who smoked them.

"Location, Vickery?" Gibbs hissed into his sleeve.

"Across the street from Shepard, two buildings to the left, alley," she responded, her voice crackling.

Gibbs looked up, found the general area quickly, and nodded. He'd be able to get to Jenny faster if something went wrong. He liked it better that way. If that bastard laid an errant hand on Jenny, he wanted to be the first to tear it off.

For a few minutes, Ferret showed no interest in Jenny, which was just about as piquing to Gibbs as him showing interest. God knows what she was saying in that sultry voice of hers, but he recognized the up tilt of her head and the slouch of her posture. She used it to tease him mercilessly.

"Ferret seems distracted," Lila murmured.

"Something's up," Gibbs growled back.

No way any straight man could stand there and not respond to Jenny.

He squinted in the darkly lit streets as Jenny shifted, leaned in, and then backwards. Ferret's arm snaked out and looped around her waist; Gibbs' hand fell to his weapon, clutching the handle of his SIG tightly. She faked a laugh.

"Okay, okay, she's got 'im," Lila said softly, a smirk evident in her voice.

Gibbs scowled unseen at the Virginia cop. He trusted her all right, found her competent enough. Jenny got on with her straight off, which struck him as odd. Watching Lila in the precinct he'd noticed she was perfectly content to be objectified and treated as just a woman. She'd never stand up to him like Jenny would.

Though he was paying closer attention to Jenny now, Ferret was still alert. He was definitely watching for something.

"He got a regular girl?" Gibbs asked Lila, taking his eyes off his agent and their target for the briefest second to scan the area.

"Naw, not that I know of—likes 'em pretty young though—oy, Gibbs," she paused, and her voice quieted.

His gaze snapped back to Jenny, thinking Lila meant something was going on there. Ferret's arms were wrapped around her waist, pulling her close to him and letting his hands roam. Gibbs gripped the SIG more securely, his fingers itching.

He was jealous. He was jealous as _hell_ and it was making him mad.

"Kinda beat up, black town car, comin' up my way…you'll see in a minute…"

Gibbs shifted his eyes to the road slightly at the Detective's instruction. Sure and slow, the town car appeared, driving past slowly, as if watching. Ferret's head turned in that direction and his attention went all towards the car; he gave himself away.

He was waiting for someone.

"Get the—"

"Plates, got 'em," Lila hissed back.

"Got you in sight, Jen," Gibbs said gruffly.

Her hand fell behind her back and she wriggled three fingers, showing she'd heard him.

Gibbs watched her try to drag Ferret's attention back to herself, succeeding. He pulled her hips closer to him and Gibbs started forward, seeing it as an aggressive act. The car appeared again, coming back this time. Ferret whispered something to Jenny and pushed her away as the car pulled to a stop.

"Take him down, Jenny," he ordered.

She reached out languidly and grabbed his arm, letting her fingers skate over him, coquettishly pulling him back.

The car door opened and Gibbs saw a head moving, feet appearing, and then Jenny's sharp yelp.

The car door slammed and Ferret wheeled around. Gibbs darted from his place, commanding Lila sharply to break her cover. Gibbs saw Jenny on the ground for a split second and jerked his gun out of holster, just shy of pulling the trigger—but she'd already kicked Ferret's feet out from underneath him and produced her knife out of nowhere, holding it against his throat from behind.

Jenny loosened her hold when Gibbs appeared and he bent down to jerk Ferret upwards, pushing him face first against the lamppost. Lila arrived a second later, her hair in complete disarray, a wicked grin on her face.

"Nice bust, Jenny," she said, cuffs appearing magically in her small hands. She gave Gibbs an expectant look. "My arrest," she said, reminding him of the agreement. He twisted Ferret's wrist extra good before handing him over to Lila Vickery.

"Hiya Ferret, remember me? You have the right to remain silent, should you give up that right…"

Her familiar words trailed on as Gibbs crouched next to Jenny. She flicked her blade closed and held it in her palm, reaching up to touch her nose and lip. He was slightly satisfied she only had a bloody lip; he was put out that she always seemed to end up with a bloody lip.

"I wasn't expecting him to turn around and backhand me," she said grimly. "Molest me, maybe…" she grimaced and grabbed his shoulder, pushing herself up.

He stood up, looking at her. He started to turn away when she grabbed his shoulder like she had at the precinct, except this time her grip was urgent. He turned around and her eyes were wide, anxious.

"The girl, getting out of the car, she was dressed like me. _Brought_ for Ferret," she explained, her features grim. He searched her eyes.

"Jethro," she hesitated, "it was Gemma Burnett's _daughter_."

* * *

_Now_ was when Leroy Jethro Gibbs found local LEOs useful: backup.

It had taken over ten hours to break Ferret. Even with Jenny's tricks and Gibbs's staring and Lila's southern sweetheart luring. The clock was ticking. Gunnery Sergeant Burnett had been brought down to the precinct and Director Morrow had been contacted

Pacci and Stand had recorded that Gunny Burnett had set up a meet with the crime lords recently. Pacci was assigned with tailing and protecting Burnett. The time was set, and the place; except the crime lords didn't know half the Virginia P.D was going to be covering for NCIS to get in, raise cane, and bust up their little ring.

Decker had done well in checking out the missing girls and the Manassas Suites. All of the missing girls had somehow been tricked or lured into something: a cult, a loan, drugs—it showed a pattern. At the Manassas Suites, Decker noted the manager he talked to seemed foreign raised though much Americanized, answered questions smoothly, deflected easily. He'd been wired for the conversation, and Burnett had confirmed the manager's voice as the voice of the man he dealt with.

"AY! LISTEN UP!" The police chief barked over the noise in his precinct. He stood in the center of the room by Lila, explaining procedure to the special ops team and others he'd assigned to this particular ordeal. Gibbs jerked his head to the side and motioned for Decker and Jenny to step aside; they didn't need to hear this.

"We're going in covert," he said keeping his voice low, "while they're distracting the hotel manager or whoever with inspections; they're gonna go on about drugs and make them think it's just a stupid tip. Only way to access the sixth floor is service elevators. Sixth floor seems a most likely core; if management is the crime lord, it makes sense they'd be able to cover up not repairing fire damage,"

"We're not even teamed," Decker murmured.

"Detective Vickery is with us," Gibbs responded. "She'll be with you; Shepard—"

"Lila and I work well together and she's not afraid of me; I should be with her," Jenny interrupted.

Gibbs paused and glared at her. She gave him a neutral look back and shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'well its true'. Yeah, it probably was, but Gibbs wanted her with him. He didn't want some academy-trained cop watching Jenny's back in a situation like this.

"You and Vickery are both new, it makes sense to split—"

"Decker's only got eight months over me," Jenny interrupted coolly, giving him a look that said she meant no harm to him by it, "and I'm better with hand-to-hand."

Decker did look slightly offended at that but Gibbs had to hold back a smirk. Jenny had a point there. She was better than half the agency at hand-to-hand. He looked over at Lila and, as she met his gaze and excused herself from the Chief and started to come over slowly, he turned back to Jenny.

"Jenny, with Lila," he said loudly, so the other woman could hear. "Watch your back," he growled at her imperiously so Lila couldn't hear, turning to the side with Decker to talk strategy. Jenny turned to face Lila, shaking off his words slightly, and started to talk tactics with her.

"You a good shot?" Jenny asked.

Lila shrugged, nodding her head.

"Don't hesitate," Jenny told her, drawing on Gibbs' words to her from a previous case, disconcerted by the non-committal way Lila had answered her.

Jenny didn't know what they were walking into. She was anxious and tense, and she hoped to God Lila's little shrug meant she could shoot like Clint Eastwood. She was weary of going into this blind, but it was how it had to be. Gemma Burnett and Shelley Crance couldn't wait, not to mention the other girls.

"Gear up," Gibbs said loudly, forgetting himself.

Nevertheless, it worked. People started to move.

Accessing the Manassas Suites was tricky. Virginia P.D. went in first, sirens blazing, and guns out, shouting: they claimed they were storming the premises and questioning all guests in a drug and assault case, saying they'd followed the drugs to someone there. In reality it was a way to get all guests off the floors in case shots were fired.

Gibbs, taking an alternate route in silence, parked their car away from the back of Manassas Suites and led them around back, entering through a side kitchen door. The kitchen was clear and absolutely silent. All it took was three or four steps into storage to find service elevators. They checked wires and earwigs quickly, and headed up.

Jenny held her breath in the enclosed space with Lila, never one to enjoy having no room to stretch out her legs. Lila was just as uncomfortable, and looked a little pale on the seemingly never-ending ride to the sixth floor. When the service elevator stopped, they took a moment. Plans said they'd step out into the old staircases not in use, and doors would lead to what was not one big open room since the fire.

Silent as death, they got out of the service elevators.

"In position," Jenny said into her com, quiet as ever.

"Likewise," she heard back.

She turned to Lila, waiting the decided upon sixty seconds.

"We don't know what's in there," she whispered, as they backed up towards the door and took stances on either side of it. Jenny reached across and rested her hand on the knob, her heart pounding. She swallowed down the rush of uncertainty she felt, berating herself for this stupid feeling of fear.

"Don't shoot until you see a weapon,"

"_Now_," Gibbs hissed in her ear.

She jerked the doorknob and struck the door with her foot, busting it open.

The immediate screams of terror were disorienting, but less so than the haze of smoke and the smell that accosted them.

"NCIS!"

Shouts echoed off the walls and as Jenny had no time to adjust her eyesight before the men in the room, guards, she guessed, opened fire.

Her gun arm wavered dangerously as the shots rang out, from different directions, disorienting her. She stared at the man standing directly across from her and Lila, slight panic taking hold of her. She pulled the trigger a second after him, moving instinctively. Her aim was terrible; the shot missed him by a mile.

Lila screamed from behind her, a scream of pain, and Jenny blinked as she lunged forward, her gun on the man. He fired again, rapidly, and she yelled in pain as blood erupted from her shoulder from the bullet that barely missed her.

Summoning her strength and controlling herself, she fired and managed to hit him square between the eyes. He fell to the floor with a loud thud and she stumbled over a live body, kneeling down to help the woman.

"STAY LOW, EVERYONE DOWN!" she heard Decker's voice above the noise, heard shots behind her and whipped around, gun out. She pulled off three rapid shots into the chest of a man behind her with a nasty looking gun, stopping him in his tracks.

A little girl grabbed onto her waist and she shook her off blindly, shouting at her to stay down.

"JETHRO!" she shouted hoarsely, smoke everywhere.

A few shots rang out. Someone crashed into her from behind and she went down under him, throwing him off of her too easily. Whoever it had been was dead, and bleeding all over her.

"CLEAR!" she heard a gruff shout, and realized the shots had died out a little and all that was left was hoarse crying, screaming, and that smell of poverty. She rolled over and looked up, eyes stinging, seeing a little better.

Gibbs' arm wrapped around hers and he yanked her up away from the dead body, pulling her to the side. He pushed her towards the door, standing in front of her. She saw Decker a few feet away, clutching his forearm tightly, his face pale and bloody, staring across the room.

Gibbs looked livid. Jenny's hands shook. She saw a door open next to Decker and her eyes widened.

"SHOOTER!" she yelped, raising her gun.

Decker hit the floor in record time, dropping like dead weight, as the guy who'd entered behind him raised his gun. Jenny's hand shook as she saw the look in his eye, the size of his gun. She squeezed the trigger of her SIG and missed again, her confidence shot, scared out of her mind.

"DAMMIT!" Gibbs all but threw her out of the way, pushing her arm down and thrusting his gun out.

He stopped the man in his tracks with a bullet between the eyes.

"Clear," Decker shouted, quieter this time, after a moment of silence.

"Clear," Gibbs affirmed gruffly, lowering his arm.

Jenny stood up, using the wall for support as she got her balance, and looked around with smoke stung and blurry eyes. The room was full of women, most very young, some girls, all terrified. In the middle of a room stood a chair with a body tied to it, a body Jenny recognized as Shelley Crance.

Swallowing hard, she turned her face away, looking downwards. That's when Decker's kneeling by the entrance she'd come in caught her, drawing her attention. She saw him shift a head of blonde hair and move his fingers to a pale neck.

She felt the blood drain from her face, remembering her failure to shoot right away when they'd come in, her panic. Lila's scream.

She started forward, the wound in her shoulder numb to her. Crouching down next to Decker, she rested a hand on his shoulder for balance and covered her mouth, looking down at Lila's body with a constricted throat. Lila's V.P.D. windbreaker was soaked with dark blood, her face chalk white, her eyes open in a lifeless stare.

Jenny stared at Lila's body, felt Decker flinch under her touch on the shoulder he'd been shot through. She wondered why _none_ of them had thought to wear a damn bulletproof vest.

Voices started to sound, not just from the other woman, but shouts from the police now. Decker sat back on his heels, clutching his shoulder, his face white as paper and his lips moving incoherently.

On the other side of Lila, Gibbs squatted down and ghosted his hand over her face, shutting her eyes. Jenny could barely see him through her blurry eyes. His expression was grim; his blue eyes a mixture of pain, anger, and something else.

She felt so guilty, so unbelievably guilty. Where had that panic come from? She should have had that guy, she was first, and Lila shouldn't have been hit. Jenny bent her head forward, furiously blinking back tears, refusing to cry. Not here. Gibbs would kill her.

"Deck," Gibbs said quietly.

"Fine," Decker replied hoarsely, his breathing shallow.

Gibbs stood and came around to their side. He bent slightly after listening for a moment to the sounds of Virginia P.D. coming up, and he crouched again, putting his hand on Jenny's shoulder. His touch was a reminder of the wound on her own shoulder and her fumbling this mission, and she flinched away with a pained gasp.

Gibbs removed his hand and looked at the blood covering his fingers from the graze on her shoulder. Without a word, his expression still almost blank, he reached around her middle and helped her up, clamping his mouth shut to keep back the words he almost yelled at her, the panic coursing through his own veins.

He'd thought _she_ was dead when he saw her on the ground.

"Oh, Lila," Jenny muttered, ignoring Gibbs.

He realized she was in shock. He realized he hadn't prepared her for the blind firefight he'd just thrown her into. This was worse than the hostage case. Sirens sounded outside and Decker groaned in relief, throwing his head back.

"Jen," Gibbs said gruffly. He pulled her back from Lila's body and forced her to turn away from it, to focus on the women in the room.

Jenny took a shuddering breath and he was tempted to pull her closer when her shoulders trembled against his, but he didn't have the time. She tensed up, lifted her head, and got out of his grasp. She knelt down in front of one of the women and a younger girl and started to help, her shoulders slumped slightly.

* * *


	18. Firing Range

_A/N: thanks to aserene!_

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**

"That's not gonna cut it, Shepard!"

Jenny flinched as his voice sounded right next to her ear, her hand shaking. Frustrated, she tightened her hold on the SIG and squeezed the trigger three more times, still hitting the red target not close enough to the center for Gibbs.

"You are better than that!" He barked.

Jenny tried to breathe. He'd been yelling at her like a Drill Sergeant for fifteen minutes now, working her outside at the firing range the whole time. He yelled, shouted, did everything in his power to distract her. It was the first place he'd taken her once they'd finished everything that had to be done concerning Manassas, their reports, and the case.

She focused on the target, trying to block out his rough voice and his proximity to her face. Her shoulder throbbed where it was patched up from the grazing and she pulled the trigger again, still managing to just miss the dead center of the target. She cursed.

"That shot is the difference between life and _death_, Shepard! _Do it again_!"

He grabbed her wrist and straightened it, holding her arm steady for a split second before releasing her and waiting.

She almost hated him right now, for pushing her like this. This was because of her panic at the hotel. She'd never been in an actual firefight before and she'd lost her cool and with it her aim. She knew damn well she could have prevented Lila's death; she didn't need him treating her like this.

Jenny couldn't _stand_ him treating her like this.

She licked her lips, blinking rapidly, trying to ignore the blurring in her vision.

"What the hell are you waiting for, Jenny? You don't have like time like this when someone's firing on you! _Shoot_," he ordered.

Jenny knew she could do it, she knew she could make these shots easily. Gibbs was so distracting though, yelling his disapproval, drawing a few stares from others using the range. She felt like he was publicly humiliating her, and she couldn't grasp why it was so important to him to do this.

She squared her shoulders and fired twice in quick succession, hitting closer to the mark than ever.

"_Not_ _good_ _enough_," he growled sharply, taking her wrist again.

He placed his hand over hers on the gun, mimicking her grasp exactly, and emptied the rest of the clip to the target dead center without blinking, pushing her arm down in frustration when he was done. He stood next to her and glared heatedly.

"You can't lose focus because you're _distracted_! You can't _panic_ because someone's shooting back at you or you'll never be cut out for this! There is no _room_ for _mistakes_—"

Jenny whirled around towards him, throwing her gun at his feet, hoping she hit him with it. She reached out and shoved him away from her with all her strength, taking muted pleasure in the surprised look on his face.

"You _bastard_!" she yelped, not caring who heard. "You _arrogant_ son of a _bitch_!"

Jethro was suddenly reminded of Diane's words to him in the basement as he straightened himself and looked at Jenny, her cheeks flushed and her eyes darkened and angry.

"You think you're that much better than me, than _anyone_? That you've _never_ made a mistake? I made one! I made a mistake, I panicked, and it cost a good cop her _life_. I almost cost Decker his, you think I don't know that? You think I don't _care_? I have to _live_ with it! I don't need you yelling in my face that I _failed_ when I _know_, God—I _know_—"

She broke off the minute she heard her voice shake, clamping her mouth firmly shut. She glared at him for a split second, noting with satisfaction that he was wordless and didn't have that defiant, I-don't-care glower on his face.

Jenny turned and left, kicking her gun irresponsibly out of her way, determinedly not looking at the few agents on the range who'd stopped to listen to her give Agent Gibbs what-for. She went past them almost blindly, wrenching open the door to the inside ranges, stalking past the stalls, flinching at the loud gunshots in the enclosed room.

She was almost out when he caught up to her, calling her name at a normal decibel this time. She ignored him, but he caught her by the wrist and stopped her. Jenny struggled against him, acutely aware that she was beyond controlling her emotions right now and she wanted to be away from everyone, particularly him.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs pulled her around to face him. He was almost ashamed for what he'd done to her on the range, pushing her to the limit like that. She didn't understand, though, why he did it. He couldn't tell her why, the words weren't in his vocabulary, and trying to find the words to say it out loud would cross lines they should never cross; but he'd been so scared she'd taken a bullet back in Manassas because she'd been too slow on the trigger and he didn't want anything like that happening again.

She turned her face away, looking down and then up, anywhere but at him.

Jenny pulled her wrist out of his hand and he let her escape from his grip; she fell back against the concrete wall and when she glanced up at him, in the hope he had left her alone, he was shocked to see she was crying.

She reached up and wiped the few tears on her cheeks away furiously, looking angrier than ever, glaring fiercely at him before she looked away. Jethro reached out hesitantly, touching her injured shoulder gently.

"Jen," he started hesitantly, recoiling from the situation. He didn't have the vocabulary for this either.

She pulled away before he could find anything to say—or stick his foot in his mouth. Her green eyes flashed and she lashed out at him.

"Stay the hell away from me," she snapped, before turning on her heel and leaving.

Jethro turned and slammed his fist against the wall, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through his knuckles. He leaned his forehead against the cold concrete, cursing violently. He restrained himself from going after her, because he knew he'd just make it worse. He knew exactly where all this pent up tension was coming from; it was frustrating to no end.

He couldn't shake the image of her tears or the knowledge that he'd caused them.

* * *

Doctor Donald Mallard, known as 'Ducky' to his friends and, well, everybody, had considered Leroy Jethro Gibbs a friend for a few years now, ever since the younger man had started working at NCIS. They got along well; Jethro humored the Doctor in his stories and Ducky was efficient and made Jethro's job very easy.

Rarely was Ducky angry with Jethro; he found it easier to take a 'that's just Jethro's way' attitude with his friend and ignore him when he got into a mood. If you stayed out of his way, he generally stopped growling eventually. They'd had a few disagreements in the past, one of the biggest being after Gibbs' split with his first wife; a situation Ducky thought had been handled terribly. He had learned to shut his mouth in that matter though, and since then they'd rarely had a displeased word for each other.

Until now.

Ducky was a little more than piqued at Jethro, considering his junior agent was currently sitting in Ducky's office with a cup of tea, trying very hard (it seemed) not to cry her eyes out. Jenny was clearly a woman who despised tears, and yet she was, for some reason, having difficulty restraining them. She was the reason the good doctor was currently marching down the hall to the bullpen to confront Jethro.

Ducky spotted the offending man at his desk, leaning backwards in his chair and staring at nothing.

He wasted no time in continuing his determined march towards him.

"What on earth have you done to that poor girl, Jethro?" he demanded snippily, stopping in front of Gibbs' desk with a slightly cold look.

Jethro looked at him as if he didn't see him for a moment, his blue eyes faraway. Then he blinked, and really focused, shifting in his chair uncomfortably. Good. Ducky hoped he was uncomfortable.

"Stay out of it, Duck," he responded tiredly, like he was forcing himself to come back from some other planet and speak English again. He didn't even snap or retort angrily like he usually did when someone interfered.

Perhaps that was why Ducky took it a little easy on him.

"I can hardly 'stay out of it', Jethro," Ducky answered, a little calmer. "Jenny came to _me_ in tears. Call me old fashioned, as I know you will, but I can't abide a woman's tears."

Jethro gave him a glare that was at least reminiscent of his usual self.

"She can _handle_ it, Ducky," he said coolly, still not as short or rude as was his usual manner.

Jethro didn't want to have this conversation with Ducky. The last thing he wanted to get back into with the M.E. was his way with women. That had almost been a banned subject since his first divorce. He didn't particularly like being reminded he'd made Jenny cry, either. He wasn't _proud_ of it.

"Jethro," Ducky hesitated, looking exasperated and fed up. "I _know_ you. If Jenny made a mistake in Virginia, you will have worked her to the bone about it. But there is something to understanding mistakes. Pushing people to their limits will not fix what has already happened, and neither will fueling the fire of their guilt."

Jethro listened wordlessly, his face an expressionless mask, but Ducky knew he heard every word.

Jethro frowned slightly that Ducky could have known what happened so well, whether he'd heard the reports from Manassas or not. He didn't like being predictable, and having a reputation for being a hard ass was different than having a reputation for having no mercy.

"You could tell her she's a good agent once and a while," Ducky said quietly, "for that she is."

"I know that, Duck," Jethro said sharply, his eyes cooling from the mild look that had been there moments before.

He expected more out of Jenny than he had out of anyone else, and, wrong as it was, he valued her life more. He didn't want to see her dead because of a probie mistake, or her career ruined because of one hesitation or mistake. He pushed her farther, worked her harder, and trusted her more. He knew she could handle this, and he knew, as angry as she was at him, she would never falter in a firefight again thanks to their blowout on the range.

Ducky watched Jethro filter through his thoughts and tried to make sense of everything. He'd left Fiona with Jenny—that girl could cheer up anyone—and neglected to tell Jenny he was coming to see Jethro. He sensed strongly that she would have physically restrained him. That girl had a deep respect for Jethro.

Yet, he stood here to reprimand Gibbs, and he couldn't quite find the heart to do it. Jethro wasn't being his usual brusque, antagonistic self, and that made it harder to be rude to him. He had a look about his eyes and mouth when he was by himself that made him look years older and quite sad, something Ducky had noticed and would probably never say out loud. Jethro had that look now, and it had Ducky wondering what was going on beneath the surface.

"Oh, dear," he sighed, drawing a look from Jethro that was questioning and almost suspicious.

Ducky deflated his indignation once his intuition kicked in and he gave Jethro a look that spoke volumes.

"Tread carefully, Jethro," he warned gently, wondering if either one of them could see what they were standing precariously on the brink of.

Jethro looked at Ducky sharply, rubbing his hand across his chin.

"She'll be fine, Duck," he said, ignoring the doctor's ominous warning simply because he didn't want to think about it.

The ding of the elevator interrupted their odd conversation, and Ducky saw a flash of red hair as the elevator doors swished open. He quickly decided he would rather not be here when Jenny came in, not too eager to feel like a traitor or look like he was fighting her battles. He vanished from the bullpen in the other direction, hopefully before she saw him.

Jethro leaned forward slowly and hit a few keys on his keyboard, shamelessly pretending to be occupied so he wouldn't have to look at her. She opened that drawer in the cabinet where she kept all of her girly stuff, rummaged around for a minute, and shut it. He had no idea what she had done, but she sat at her desk, bent forward for a moment, and then straightened back up, tapping at her own computer.

He glanced up.

Jenny looked marginally paler, if anything. Beyond that, you couldn't have guessed she'd been crying if you didn't already know. Her eyes weren't red, her make-up wasn't smeared; her state of complete composure almost made him forget his offense.

Her green eyes were trained on her computer screen, shifting slightly back and forth as if she were reading something. She hit a few keys, her eyes flicked upwards, and he couldn't look away before her eyes met his and pressed her lips together tightly before looking back down.

A few moments later, she got up, pushed her chair backwards with a loud noise and stood in front of his desk, waiting. He couldn't believe how childishly he was acting when it took him seconds longer than it should have to face her.

She jerked her head, and left the bullpen, obviously expecting him to follow.

Without question, he did.

She took the stairs, not the elevator, to ground level and all but ignored him as they left the building and she crossed the Navy Yard, treading the path they'd taken almost two hours ago when he'd first demanded she come with him to the firing range.

It was close to lunch time now; hardly anyone remained. One of the agents who'd witnessed her screaming at Gibbs leapt out of her way as she entered the building and she ignored him stoically, walking straight past everything to the back, leading Jethro back out to the outdoor firing range.

She stopped, turning slowly, her back facing the target she'd been working at earlier. Watching him silently, she pulled her gun out of its holster and shoved the clip into it without looking at it. She turned again and held her arm out steadily.

He didn't flinch as she pulled the trigger, cracking off a shot directly to the blood red center of the target.

Lowering her firearm, she gripped the gun until her knuckles where white and again turned to face him, not showing a bit of surprise that he'd approached while her back was turned to watch more closely.

"It will never happen again," she said quietly, and he knew without asking she was referring to her panic in the firefight.

Jethro took her hand and removed her fingers from the cold metal of the weapon, taking it from her with a short nod. He knew. Turning the gun over in his hand, he handed it back to her with the barrel facing away from him, balancing it in his palm.

Jenny took it, her fingers brushing his wrist delicately as she closed her smaller hand around the handle. He wondered if she felt the jump in his pulse. Jethro curled his fingers around her hand before she could pull back and she looked up at him, her eyebrows coming together imperceptibly.

He squeezed her hand, the only kind of comfort he could give her without dangerously overstepping the boundaries.

* * *


	19. Dirty Thoughts, Dirty Looks

_A/N: Thanks to aserene! i know, I said Diane was gone...I lied._

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**

They had weekend duty again, and Jenny hadn't bothered to go home at all.

She was tired as hell and had pretty much run out of things to do. Her paperwork was done and caught up on, her desk was spotlessly clean, the office was empty and no one needed help doing anything. She'd already worn herself out on the range behind Gibbs' back, making that same shot to the center of the target until she could do it with her eyes shut. Technically, she wasn't speaking to her boss, and she didn't want him to know she was shaken badly enough to spend so much time refining her shot.

Jenny had made sure to be absent from the bullpen this morning, eager to avoid Gibbs coming in on her early in the morning again. He didn't ask questions, he never did, but she had some serious issues looking at him lately.

She pulled her hair out of its loose ponytail as she took the stairs up from the gym instead of the elevator. It didn't matter that she'd run past her limit this morning and worked out far longer than she should have; she liked the burn of overworked muscles in her legs. It was late Sunday morning now and as far as she knew the Director wasn't even in. He had the good sense to go home and spend time with his family.

Jenny pushed open the stair door effortlessly, adjusting to the silence of the office as she walked down the hall. She ran her hand through her hair haphazardly; trying to jerk out her tangles, and only paused slightly when she saw Gibbs in the bullpen at his desk. She caught her breath and swallowed as she continued on her way, vainly wishing she looked a little less tired and overwrought.

He didn't say a word to her as she threw herself down in her chair, leaning back and tipping her head backwards. She stared at the ceiling, trying to cool off, determined to somehow repair the broken rapport before them. Any ease in their working relationship had declined inexplicably since the confrontation with Diane.

She reached up and ran a hand over her face, lifting her head back up and straightening slightly. She glanced over at him and noticed he was pouring over a mass of papers, a pen in his hand, his face dark and resigned at the same time. Jenny scanned his desk and stood up, finding the means to offer an olive branch

"I'm going for coffee. Want anything?" she asked mildly, drawing his attention.

His eyebrows lifted in surprise and she couldn't help but smile a little. It was so hard to really catch him off guard that even when they weren't on good terms, it felt good to do it. He moved his hand as if to show surprise and answered:

"Yeah," he sounded like he was going to say something else, but he didn't.

She nodded and turned around, grabbing her purse off of the floor next to her desk and slinging it over her shoulder.

"Jamaican Blend," she said aloud, checking with him to make sure she'd observed correctly. He nodded and shifted as if to reach for his wallet. She shook her head and pushed her hair behind her ear, waving him off. "I'll get it."

She couldn't quite tell what he was thinking as he looked at her and just nodded imperceptibly, leaning forward and resting his head in his palm as he took up his pen again.

Jenny took the elevator this time. The warmth outside was welcome; it was late July and for once it wasn't muggy or gross. She blinked in the sun and headed for the coffee shop Gibbs' frequented that was located down the street from the Navy Yard. She waited in the short line patiently, eyes scanning the menu flippantly, silently congratulating herself on managing to see what paperwork Jethro was so wrapped up in.

They were his divorce papers.

Jenny placed her order and stepped off to the side of the counter, mulling over the unruly amount of paperwork involved in his divorce. She hadn't had any experience with divorce herself, but she had a feeling his papers were a bit excessive than was normal; she'd seen case files smaller.

She couldn't explain the feeling of relief she felt when she saw the title on the papers. The fact that he was finalizing his divorce from that crazy harpy oddly enough made her feel slightly triumphant. It also made her feel less guilty about the thoughts she'd been having.

At least now if she _happened_ to accidentally act on them, providing she suddenly lost her mind and her inhibitions, she wouldn't feel like a shameless adulteress.

She was dwelling on the scene she'd made at the firing range the other day. She continued to dwell on it because she had nothing else to keep her occupied; she thought constantly about him running his hand over hers when he handed her back her gun and how much she'd wanted him to pull her closer and touch her more.

Jenny narrowly avoided running into someone as she turned around with the coffee in her hands and muttered an apology, pushing her boss from her mind for the moment in order to walk safely from the coffee shop back to work.

Jenny drank her own coffee absentmindedly, sure to stay away from his bitter blend. She preferred a lot of sugar in hers, at least since she'd realized the value of coffee in keeping her awake on long cases and started drinking it.

She was still smarting from the indignity of him catching her in tears, and even more so from letting him know he'd affected her like he had. She wouldn't be surprised if he was proud of himself for finally succeeding in breaking her like he did everyone else.

Jenny held onto the slightly annoyed feeling that thought brought on as she re-entered the NCIS building, flashing her badge at the door. It was much better to work with him on your toes and in a sparring mood than distracted with sexual fantasies.

Especially since she was currently trying to convince herself she wasn't actually having those.

She scowled to herself as the elevator stopped on her floor and opened, wishing she had the option of visiting Ducky if things got tense. Unfortunately, he was attending the ballet tonight with a lady friend.

Jenny was only a little bit jealous.

As she walked down the hall, a man leaning against the wall, looking bored and well put together, momentarily halted her. She gave him a narrow, searching look because she didn't know who he was. She noted the visitor's pass on his suit coat and he nodded to her. She didn't return the polite greeting; she swiveled her head toward the bullpen, lifting her neck slightly, confirming her suspicions.

A crown of dark red hair was visible over the walls, smack in the middle of her and Gibbs' work area.

Jenny gritted her teeth in self-discipline and swallowed bracingly, giving the nameless man another short look before carrying on. She came into the bullpen silently, finding it ironic that the first time she'd met Diane she'd been wearing pretty much the same thing.

Gibbs spotted her and flicked his eyes back to his all but ex-wife. Jenny found it amusing that he looked a bit panicked. He was standing behind his desk facing Diane, and Jenny did her best not to draw Diane's attention as she approached and leaned forward to place his coffee on the edge of his desk.

"Speak of the devil," she heard Diane mutter under her breath.

Jenny straightened up slowly, unable to stop the smirk that spread out over her face. And here she was, trying so hard to be a good girl.

Jethro was giving Diane a sharp look.

"It's nice to see you again, Diane," Jenny said sweetly, looking the other woman in the eye.

Diana looked at her like she'd grown a second head, her sharp brown eyes narrowing in suspicion. Jenny gave her a less than friendly look in return. She really didn't take to being called the _devil_.

Diane made a sort of dismissive noise in her throat and shifted so she was angled away from Jenny, turning her attention back to Jethro. He hesitated, glancing between them warily, and went back to what he'd been doing before Jenny came back. He dropped a bunch of the papers that had been everywhere into a manila envelope and sealed it, placing it on top of a few folders.

"Everything's there? Signed and sealed?" Diane asked impatiently, her tone snippy and cool.

"_Yes_," he answered shortly, picking up the stack and handing them to her. She took them with a perfectly manicured hand, propping them in the crook of her arm.

Jenny took a slow sip of her coffee, watching the scene.

Part of her, the Jenny that had given everybody so much trouble in high school, wanted desperately to make a lewd comment or touch Jethro inappropriately right in front of Diane, just to exert revenge on the other redhead for name-calling. The sane and practical part of her kept reminding her she should walk away.

The two parts met in the middle and decided that Jethro shouldn't have taken care of this in the office if he didn't want an audience.

"Last chance, Jethro," Diane said sharply, "if you've got anything to say."

His eyes went to Jenny involuntarily, which probably wasn't the best idea. Diane followed his gaze and gave Jenny the dirtiest glare she'd ever received. Jethro came around his desk and his shoulder brushed against Jenny as he walked past, dropping his hand to Diane's back and leading her out of the bullpen away from the potential minefield.

"I hate it when you lead me like that," she snapped, and Jenny watched her shoulders stiffen as they walked away. Immaturely, Gibbs moved his hand to her arm and tightened his grip. The man who Jenny assumed was Diane's lawyer followed after them to the elevator.

Jenny saw Diane turn her head back towards the bullpen and met her eyes.

She gave the other woman a blank look. Regardless of her hostile feelings towards Diane, there was nothing going on between she and Jethro, and it irked her to be thought of as the other woman.

Diane broke eye contact and lowered her head, looking defeated and a little upset. Unconsciously, Jenny sat down on the edge of Jethro's desk, shoving stuff out of the way. She heard a low jumble of words from Diane's lawyer before the elevator announced its arrival and Jethro let go of Diane's arm. Quite clearly, Diane's final goodbye echoed:

"Good riddance,"

Jenny snorted quietly and shook her head. Jethro was back in the bullpen probably before the elevator doors had closed, sitting back at his desk a little violently and hitting his palm on the keyboard. He bent forward, ignoring Jenny, and held his head in his hands a few moments before dropping his hand loudly on the desk and snatching the coffee Jenny had retrieved him.

"Rough morning?" Jenny asked with a kind of light irony. She didn't expect him to answer, and was slightly surprised when he did.

"She cleaned out my bank account!" he said gruffly, drinking the coffee like it was vodka. He looked up, staring forward, and his eyes flashed. "Nothing was ever _enough_ for Diane, there was always _something_,"

Jenny watched him vent silently, content to take advantage of his uncharacteristically sharing mood and take a peek into his clearly dysfunctional marriage.

He snorted derisively, bitterly, and leaned back, looking at Jenny with a sarcastic glint in his hard blue eyes.

"Stated her grounds for divorce as emotional _battery_, willful _neglect, _and suspected _infidelity,"_ he clenched his fist and brought it up to his mouth, his jaw muscles tightening.

Jenny bristled slightly, throwing a nasty look at the elevator though Diane was long gone. She took the last ground there as a personal affront.

Jethro cursed under his breath, his pupils contracting darkly.

Jenny remained quiet, somehow knowing he didn't need her to say anything, and he sure as hell didn't need her to soothe him. She put herself in his shoes and came to the conclusion if _he_ said to _her_ something like 'it will be okay' she would shoot him.

She gave him a look and raised an eyebrow, taking a drink of her coffee. She hopped off of his desk and went back to hers, setting her cup down and turning back around to drop into her own chair. Jenny didn't bother changing back into business casual attire, taking advantage of the fact that no one was here to see her in gym clothes with tired eyes.

She vaguely wondered how long he was going to keep staring at her before he realized he wasn't looking at her eyes anymore. She watched his eyes drift over her body a little indulgently and slightly insecurely, anxious to know what he was thinking.

Jenny let her eyes fall closed a little and rested them, unable to prevent herself from imagining his hands running up her legs…

She snapped her eyes open instantly; fiercely hoping her cheeks weren't coloring like she thought they were.

Jethro was looking at her face again. His eyes were, as ever, unreadable.

"Jen," he said mildly, waiting for an answer.

Marginally annoyed that he'd wait for her to respond when she was obviously listening to him, she licked her lips and creased her brow to show her irritation.

"Yes?"

She didn't think she could handle it if he commented on her person in any way.

"You're a good agent," he said.

Jenny paused, careful not to show her surprise at that little heartfelt comment. Instead, she smirked and titled her head forward in acknowledgement.

'I know," was her prim reply.

* * *


	20. The Beginning

_A/N:_ _Thanks to aserene! I have to admite I shamelessley pirated the beginning bit, or general idea, from Season2Ep 'Twilight'--minus the gruesome end. :]_

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs flicked the emergency stop switch on the elevator and turned to a mildly confused Jenny, his previous anger dissipating before her eyes. She gave a small squeak of surprise as he pushed her backwards against the wall, barely having enough time to brace her hands behind her and ease her impact against the metal. His hands fell to her hips and he pushed her up, pulling her legs around his waist and pinning her between him and the elevator. His hands hiked her skirt up her thighs—_she_ _didn't remember putting on a skirt this morning_—stroking sensitive skin until she gasped his name.

"How long have you wanted this, Jen?" he growled in her ear, his lips pressing hot against her jaw and her neck as she fought impatiently with his belt, any notion of foreplay completely shot.

"You have no idea," she answered hoarsely, her hand slipping under his waistband.

God, she wanted him.

"Jenny," he moaned, his hand fumbling with the buttons of her shirt, pushing closer to her until her senses were nothing but _him_.

He laughed. _Why was he laughing?_

She moaned as his mouth moved lower on her skin.

"Jenny," he snapped teasingly, and she blinked, her blood rushing, aroused and slightly confused now.

"Jethro?" she asked, what she was feeling clear in her voice, her breath still caught in the back of her throat.

"HEY _SHEPARD_!"

Jenny Shepard jolted awake and reacted to the interruption by flinching her eyes closed tighter, disoriented and annoyed.

Slowly, she peeked her eyes open, briefly wondering why she was so uncomfortable and why her nice bed was so hard and unwelcoming. Grey metal consumed her vision and she groaned inwardly, latching onto the last, spindly hope she had that she _hadn't_ fallen asleep at work before she opened her eyes all the way.

She rolled over onto her back and looked up, squinting. The person standing over her with a stupid grin on his stupid face confirmed that she was, in fact, asleep behind her desk at work.

Stan Burly crossed his arms with a gloating look and looked down at her, narrowing his eyes mischievously. Jenny had always denied it, but she knew she talked in her sleep. She fervently prayed to any God listening that this one time she hadn't said a word.

"Morning, _Sleepyhead_," he announced antagonistically. It almost sounded like he was shouting, but (she hoped) that was just because she wasn't fully awake yet.

When she got off of this floor, she was going to punch him in the face.

"I'm going to kill you," she snapped, sitting up. Her arm hurt from using it as a pillow, and her head hurt from lack of sleep. It _had_ to be Stan to stumble on her sleeping and wake her up.

"I don't doubt it!" he responded cheerfully. His mouth took on a wicked grin and he bent forward some, inching closer. "I really _hated_ to wake you," he informed her.

She fixed him with a hard glare.

Jenny pushed herself up easily and stood in front of Stan while he straightened to her height; she was as tall as him in her heels, maybe even had an edge. He just smiled blandly.

"You dream about _Gibbs_," he announced smugly, almost gleefully.

In her head, Jenny pictured herself keelhauling Stan, and it made her slightly perkier. She gave him nothing but a silent glare for his statement and wished she were back asleep so she could finish her dream without Stan interrupting.

That would be _nice_.

"I don't," she replied shortly, dropping her shoulders in a shrug and narrowing her eyes.

Stan just nodded, his grin breaking out all over his face until he was almost laughing at her. She suddenly felt like she was in primary school, accused of liking fellow classmate. That was exactly how Stan was currently behaving.

"You called his _name_," Stan goaded, nodding slightly. Jenny only flinched inwardly. At least Gibbs hadn't actually been in the bullpen. That was probably the only thing that could make this worse for her.

"You know, Jenny, if you need a release for all that sexual tension you're harboring—agh!"

Reminiscent of her first day at NCIS, Jenny twisted his arm behind him and slammed him against the filing cabinet, drawing a surprised shriek from someone and a few stares from the other agents.

Stan squeaked.

"I channel my sexual tension into anger," she hissed at him, tightening her grip on his wrist mercilessly.

"Let me go!" Stan whined, his voice raspy.

"You woke me up," she snapped angrily, forgetting for the moment that he might take that statement as her way of saying she wanted to finish what she was doing in her dreams instead of the way she intended it, which was to make him realize she liked to be left alone when she slept.

"Ow—Jesus, _Jenny_—it's only because," he broke off; struggling, and she just shoved him against the filing cabinet harder.

"Your struggle is futile."

"Gibbs was looking for you!" Stan gasped.

Jenny dug her nails into the skin at his wrists and released him. He groaned and cradled his wrist in one hand, giving her a distrustful glare and backing away. Jenny gave a sweet look to Pacci and Decker over the wall; they had stopped in the entrance of the bullpen to watch.

Jenny gave Stan a look that the devil himself would quail under.

"You," she said slowly, "will keep your mouth shut if you value your family jewels," she threatened menacingly, throwing a violent glance below his waistline.

Stan paled slightly and scowled at her, backing up to his desk.

Only marginally satisfied, Jenny shoved her hand through her hair and turned to go, giving Pacci and Decker a short nod and a distracted smile as she slipped past them. She went straight to the bathroom and was glad to find it empty.

Relaxing her shoulders, she bent over the sink and turned the cold water on, glancing at her reflection in the mirror while the water ran. She made a face at the shameful disarray of her hair and bemoaned the flush on her cheeks that wasn't due to embarrassment.

Jenny groaned, reluctantly guessing she'd have to sleep here again tonight just to prevent herself from calling Harm when she got home to do nothing but re-open old wounds in order to scratch an itch.

She cupped her hands under the cool water and splashed it on her face, closing her eyes. She turned off the faucet and backed up against the stonewall, slumping slightly, rolling her head backwards.

She really didn't fancy facing Jethro after starting off her morning like _that_. All she would think about when she looked at him was his mouth in sinful places.

Opening her eyes, Jenny checked her reflection in the mirror to make sure no make-up was smeared before she jerked open the bathroom door and left the bathroom, resigned to going to see why Gibbs was looking for her.

She jumped a mile when she met with him leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, her pulse leaping madly in her throat. Jethro straightened and looked at her in minute annoyance for making him look for her and she just clamped her mouth shut to keep from laughing nervously.

"Where've you been?" he asked.

He swore he heard her mutter what sounded suspiciously like 'hell' under her breath before giving him an accusatory glare. He lifted an eyebrow, unsure of what he'd done this time to deserve her glare.

"Director wants to see us," he informed her slowly, getting increasingly suspicious of the look in her eyes.

She nodded shortly and went past him, her shoulders tensing up. Jethro gave her back a funny look before following her, attempting unsuccessfully to not look at her backside. As he followed up the stairs, he gave the back of her head a wary glance, unwilling to be caught admiring her.

She'd probably flip her lid.

"MTAC?" she questioned, stopping on the catwalk halfway between the security fortress and the Director's outer office.

He shook his head and gestured towards the office, reflexively opening the door for her and letting her go first. The secretary's desk was vacant and Morrow's door was already open; he was walking across the floor inside as one of the agents from another department left his office.

"Gibbs, Shepard," he said, spotting them in the doorway. "Come in," he beckoned to them and then walked past, shutting the door soundly behind them.

Morrow gestured to the seats at the conference table and went to gather two relatively thin files from his desk. Jenny pulled a seat back from the side of the table and sat back in it, propping her elbow on the arm.

Morrow dropped the two files on the conference table and sat down opposite them, resting his hand on top of them. He was silent for a moment as he watched them, before he started to speak:

"Your performance has been exemplary, Agent Shepard, and I commend you for that," he started, nodding to Jenny.

She smiled at him in response.

"You two work well together," Morrow stated, half questioning. He paused, glancing between them, and seemed confused that they both delayed answers.

Jenny nodded and she heard Gibbs answer in the affirmative. She was busy not looking at him, instead focusing very intently on Morrow and anything else in the room. Morrow gave them a slightly amused look and then tapped the folders he was guarding with his hand.

"I'm sending you to Europe," he announced, leaning forward and folding his hands on the table. "Covert operations. Most of what you do will be unofficial, sometimes undocumented or even unauthorized by international law. Unfortunately, flouting the law is sometimes necessary," Morrow gave a ghost of a smile in Jethro's direction, knowing well his reputation, and continued, "I trust you can handle it."

Jenny stared at him, lowering her head to prop up her chin in her palm, her fingers brushing her lips. She played his words back in her mind. He was sending her to Europe with Gibbs? _Alone_?

Morrow unfolded his hands and picked up the files, handing one to each of them. Wordlessly, Jenny took hers and leaned back, glancing at Jethro to gauge his initial reaction. He looked like he was paying too much attention to his file.

"Passports, falsified documents and I.D., most of what you might need is there. Officially, you're being re-located, stationed at the London outpost. Your false identities and papers are for whatever undercover work you're assigned under the radar."

Morrow paused and stood up, starting to pace around his office. Jenny watched him and looked down at her file, knowing his movement meant the meeting was almost over. She was still a little awestruck that she'd even be considered for missions like this. She'd barely been part of the agency five months.

"Your first assignment," the Director waited until he had Jenny and Gibbs' full attention back and continued, "Is off the record. You'll be undercover in France, on a surveillance mission in Marseille."

The Director smiled at them briefly, as the phone on his desk buzzed and Charlene informed him he had a call waiting from SecNav in MTAC. Jenny thought she caught a glint of amusement in his kind eyes.

"Pack your bags," Morrow informed them as he went back to his desk, "You're going to Paris."

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_The End [for now!]_

_There will be a second installment coming soon, 'Paris Nights', and a third after, 'Russian Twilight'. I might have forgotten to mention this is a trilogy._

_Alexa_


End file.
